November: The "Dead Month"

For the Feast of All Hallows;  here's a little article I wrote some year ago on the Month of November as special time of remembering those who have gone before us and the Spiritual Practices associated with it...
Read on... and hopefully enjoy!

"It is a holy and wholsome thought to pray for the dead that they might be loosed from their sins"
2Mac, 12:46

Pic by Br. Javier Garza OFM Cap

A few people from different Religious traditions have asked me about the customs associated with Hallowe’en and the month of November in my tradition so this little article will hopefully answer most of the questions...

In the Catholic Tradition the whole month of November is dedicated to praying for and remembering the dead. We begin with Hallowe'en, the eve of the feast of All Hallows or Saints on the 31st, this falls on the old Celtic Feast of Samhain which again was to do with remembrance of the dead and was seen as the time when the veils that separated the worlds of the living and the dead were at their thinnest. This feast was subsumed into the Christian Calendar from very early on as entirely commensurate in essence with Christian theology and practice. Prayers and Rituals were offered for the departed, and often a candle or light was kindled specially in the home or at the graves of the deceased as a way of remembering those who had gone before. This continued right up to the present day. In my Grandmother’s time the custom was to clean the house and sweep out the hearth and leave bread and salt in a dish as the ancestors would come and visit the house on this night.

The feast of All Saints, Nov 1st issues in the month properly with its remembrance of all the saints of all times and places. All those Men and Women who have lived lives based on compassion and goodness and who have been gathered together in the kingdom of heaven. On this feast we celebrate not just the Canonised Saints but also the “common or garden” saints, as one old priest I knew used to put it… all those who though appearing to live ordinary lives, were transformed by grace and love to live extraordinary lives that brought peace and compassion to the world. The feast stresses that sanctity is the destiny of every human being and that it is within reach of all of us. In the churches Solemn Masses and blessings with the relics and icons of the saints are offered.

The second of November is dedicated to the feast of All Souls, here we remember all of those souls who though departed from this life are still “in via”, on the way to God. On this day we remember those souls who are completing their journey to heavenly life through the state of Purgatory. We call them the Holy Souls, for their salvation is assured and they in turn can pray for and help the living but we also call them Poor Souls for they are dependent on our prayer, penance and acts of charity.

Prayer for the Holy Souls is considered an important way of offering Spiritual Alms and so, on this day, every priest may offer three Masses and the Office of the Dead are prayed by priests and Monks and Nuns. The faithful attend Mass, light blessed candles and visit the graveyards throughout this month. One beautiful custom, which as far as I know is only found in Ireland, relates the prayers for the dead to the falling of the leaves off the trees in that if a leaf falls from a tree in front of your face it was taken to be a message from one of the Holy Souls asking for prayer. In the Christian tradition, Ghosts in the proper sense, (not poltergeists or mere psychic impressions), are known to be Souls in purgatory who appear to ask for Spiritual Help via prayer to complete their purgatory and move on to heavenly life. The faithful also record the names of their departed loved ones on the “November Dead Lists” and these lists are placed upon the Altar and Mass is offered for those whose names are recorded daily throughout the month. Special services of remembrance of all those who have died in the past year are held in most churches with their families being invited to come back and light a candle for the deceased. The candle is then given as a gift of remembrance to the family that they can bring home and light to remember their loved one. People often fast from meat and or alcohol and add extra prayers and daily attendance at Mass for the Holy Souls as well. Perhaps these or some other practice or prayer may be something you would like to take on for this month of remembrance?

 One of the oldest prayers for the dead is the “De Profundis” Psalm 129 which goes like this:
Out of the depths we have cried to thee O Lord,
Lord hear our voice
Let thine ears be attentive to the voice of our supplication.
If thou O Lord would mark our guilt; Lord who would endure it?
But with thee there is found forgiveness:
For this we revere thee.
My soul is waiting for the Lord,
I count on His word.
My soul is longing for the Lord
More than watchman for daybreak
Let the watchman count on daybreak and Israel on the Lord
Because with the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption,
Israel indeed He will redeem from all its iniquity
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit
As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be world without end.
Amen
O Lord hear my prayer
And let my cry come unto you
Let us pray,
O God the creator and redeemer of all the faithful, grant to the souls of thy servants the remission of all their sins, that through theses pious supplications they may obtain the pardon which they have always desired.
We ask this through Christ Our Lord.
Amen

The Christian and Meditation: an upcoming course with Brother Richard

Good morning all!
Just a reminder that the 6 week course in Christian Meditation I teach at the Sanctuary will begin again this coming Weds the 4th of November! Places are limited so book soon to discover the wonderful depths of the Christian Meditative Tradition:

Details are below...

This 6 week course with Brother Richard on The Christian and Meditation will introduce you to the wonderful way of opening the heart to the depth dimension of life through the Christian meditative tradition. Many people are unaware of the ancient tradition of Meditation that lies at the heart of Christianity and this is a wonderful opportunity to experience this in the lovely surroundings of the Sanctuary.
Topics covered will include:
Christ as a teacher of Meditation
The History and Development of Christian Meditation
Practicing with the breath in the Judeo-Christian tradition
Monastic forms of meditative prayer
From Meditation to Contemplation
Mindfulness and Christianity
Date: 6 week course beginning Wednesday 4th November, 7.40pm - 9.00pm.
- See more at: www.sanctuary.ie

Of Weed-killer and Wonder...

I’m ashamed to say it, 

but it all began with weed-killer…

and looking back now, the fact that I even thought of weed-killer as a solution to the problem is a source of horror and embarrassment…

or perhaps it began with the feeling of frustration at needing to ask for it…

As Novices one of the duties we had was to assist the brother who looked after the extensive novitiate gardens. These were traditional cloister gardens that only the novices and the novitiate staff used. I loved them. There were beautiful old fruit trees, vegetable patches, an extraordinary spliced Laburnum tree that flowered spectacularly once a year in a half yellow and half purple explosion, lots of small green lawns and fulsome flower beds and around them all and through them all long gravel paths that led to little shrines and hidden areas set aside for prayer, reflection, reading or simply enjoying the autumnal sunshine in those first months of the ancient year long retreat experience we call novititate.

Working with the Brother Gardener meant mowing lawns and trimming trees and planting and hoeing and doing all the usual jobs that a large garden entails while learning from him the arcane arts of gardening. We worked on a rotation between the three of us novices. One on Fruit and Veg, one on Lawns and Flowers and one on the dreaded Weeding of the Paths. Then came the day the rotation shifted and suddenly I found myself moved on to Path Weeding Duty. Three times a week I would spend an afternoon kneeling on the path plucking out the little sprouts of Dandelions, Daisies and other invaders that threatened to overcome the order of the paths and bind the gravel together into a muddy mess. Having completed the section I was working on I would then hoe and rake the gravel back into order before the bell rang for evening meditation and prayer. Looking back as I left I would notice that the section I had just worked on was clean and clear but whatever satisfaction I was taking in my work for that day would be miserably mitigated by seeing the apparent miles that awaited my attention in front of me, to say nothing of the light green fuzz already accruing on the section I had done last week. I hated it. It was back breaking, and slow, and stupid, I thought. I could not understand why so much time was being expended on maintaining the paths by hand when surely a once a month treatment with weedkiller would have rendered them just as free for much longer and would have freed me in the process for much more necessary and important work… and so I would spend my time there kneeling on the paths no longer focussed on the beauty of the gardens but grumbling deep within… especially when other friars passed me by mowing grass, digging beds and generally seeming to have a much better time than I.

Then came a particularly bad day. It had rained the day before. The path was muddy. The roots were deep. The back was sore. All through evening meditation I ached and fulminated in equal quantities as around me the gentle breathing of the brethren did nothing to calm my mood. Tomorrow, I resolved, I would do something about it, and so I did. As soon as the morning classes were over I asked to see the Novice Master. Sitting in front of him I made my request for money to go and get weedkiller for the paths. I was reasonable in my tone. Clear in my arguments. I enunciated my request clearly and calmly, being sure to stress that this would make the job easier not just for me but for everyone.

“Think of all the time that would be saved”, I said,

“I’m surprised no one has ever thought of this before”, I said,

“I’ll be free to do so much more”, I said.

The Novice Master just looked at me.

Then, when I had quite finished and talked myself into silence, he said quietly,

“Brother, when you can come to me and tell me why I’m refusing your request now, then you won’t have to weed the paths anymore.” 

There was a moment of silence and then, stunned slightly, I left the room.

Over the ensuing days and weeks I grew to dread those paths. And always as I was working I would stew over what the Novice Master had meant. Was it because we never used chemicals in the garden elsewhere? Was it a Franciscan thing? Was he just being cheap? Was it supposed to be penance? (It certainly felt like it at times). And so I grumbled and weeded and made my way slowly around the paths for about a month feeling the encroaching green army always at my sandaled heels and losing no opportunity to tell the brothers what I thought of Weedkiller and weeds and futile work until I’m sure they longed for the bell to ring that issued in silent time in the evenings.

Then, one day, out of the blue, and a day in all respects like any other, it happened. I was weeding away. In the background I could hear the other brothers chatting as they worked on the fruit trees. It was a sunny brisk day and I could feel the earth drying on my fingers as I parted another weed from the ground and pulled it free from the gravel… and then, just as I shook it, watching the clods of mud fall away from the roots something fell away from me as surely as the grains of gravel fell to the ground. I can only say I was freed, that I was connected.

Connected to the gravel.

Connected to the root.

Connected to the earth beneath.

Connected to the sunshine,

Connected to the dust.

Connected to the breath.

Connected to the Love that holds it all in being.

I was myself apart and I was connected to all of it.

It did not matter that I was weeding or not weeding.

It did not matter that the paths were greening behind me and were still green before me.

There was just me in this moment.

Now.

Performing this action.

Now.

Breathing and moving.

Now.

Loving and being loved.

Now.

I kept on weeding, but it was as though a deep quality of experience that is always just below the surface was revealed. I realised that we float on the surface of a deep ocean of Being. It was like seeing a familiar but dark room illumined dazzlingly as a curtain is suddenly pulled back. Everything was still in the room, all the familiar furniture was there but illuminated and outlined in sunshine.

It wasn’t peaceful, it was peace.

It wasn’t joyful, it was joy.

It wasn’t loving, it was love…

It wasn’t praying, it was prayer…

And I, well I kept weeding! What else could you do?

It only lasted a moment, though it seemed to expand within me and around me forever, and then, (foolishly I know now,) I looked at it, not from within but from without and began to rejoice not in the experience but at having the experience and, as ego awoke, immediately, it vanished…

At first I was sad, but then I smiled and…kept on weeding…after all that was the job in hand… From then on weeding was no longer the burden it had been. It was just weeding. It didn’t matter that I would be kneeling in an island of soon to be consumed again gray, loose, gravel…

there was just this moment,

this weed,

this job,

this breath…

and that was ok.

The rhythm of weeding of bending, bowing, plucking, shaking, hoeing, raking became the background music to an inner attention to the prayer of the breath that now, many years of practice later, I know marked the beginning of the Mindfulness of Divine Presence that is the foundation stone of Christian Meditation practice. Over the weeks I grew to quite like weeding… all thoughts of weedkiller were forgotten… I simply dwelt in the ordinary wonder of the garden.

Later, I discussed the experience with the Novice Master.

He smiled.

Said nothing about it then, and, next day, relieved me of weeding duty.

Over the months the experience would come and go, I realised it could never be forced, though it could be encouraged and it always happened when I was just in the moment, in a fluidity of being that very often brought body and mind together in a repetitive disciplined action, in which intention had been set to dwell fully in the work and be fully present to it, while preserving a loving attention at the centre of the heart on the Divine Presence. There is a reason we call it cultivation! This work of attuning the inner attention to that which is always present to us. It takes a life time to master but the joy is in knowing that when we begin to practice Divine Love swoops down into the gap between what we are, (our usual distracted, self-centred existence), and what we could be, (centred, peaceful, present) and gives us a glimpse of the latter so that we might wish to work on the former…

If you would like to begin to weed out your own distractions, so as to begin to enter this mindfulness of Presence then a few suggestions come from the tradition.

Intentionality:

Consciously make a prayer setting your intention to be present to Divine Love every day. If possible do this first thing in the morning. (The Morning Offering practice.) It can be good to return to this prayer at midday and in the evening. Invite the Holy Spirit to begin the work of attuning you to His presence and inspiration.

Sitting:

A later post will look at this in detail, but for now simply begin by setting two periods of about 20 mins, morning and evening, to sit comfortably but alertly. If 20mins is too long start with 10 and allow it to grow. Invoke the Holy Spirit and offer the time to the Lord as a time of being consciously present to Him by being consciously present to the reality of His Love breathing through you, and then follow the gentle rhythm of your breath as it rises and falls. We will add a prayer word to this later, but for now, just follow the breath and when you become distracted return to it gently and without stress.

Work:

We are all busy people, but our work, whatever it is, can still be prayer. Moving from activity to activity, pause long enough to re-set your intention each time to be inwardly present to the Divine Presence within and around you. A simple moment in which you breathe deeply three rounds of in-breath and out-breath dedicating each one to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit can be a beautiful way to do this. In time you will need to re-set less and less…

Finally:

Don’t use weedkiller! 

Present Moment, Sacred Moment:

Present Moment, Sacred Moment:

The Choir Chapel of the Friars in Kilkenny where we first learned to practice Meditation.

We were "Novices", a word that means new. And we were new, new to all of it, new to community life, new to living as brothers, new to the prayers and to the liturgy. 
Our fingers couldn’t find the right page yet in the breviary. We were still learning the geography of the friary and the gardens; still learning which of the brothers did what, and how to speak to them about it. 

We were new to the robe and new to the sandals, all clumsy thumbs and cold toes; and every day we joined the professed community for meditation; twice, two periods of half an hour before Lauds (morning prayer) and Vespers (evening prayer). These are the two periods of stillness that, as we were to learn, are the ancient hinges on which, to this day, swings the door of monastic meditative prayer, the door that slowly opens you to the presence of the One who IS…

But we were novices, new, and so as yet those periods were spent trying to resist distraction, trying not to look at the clock, trying not to fall asleep, or, if one did fall asleep, trying to do so in such a way that the Novice Master wouldn’t notice! Sometimes they were even spent keeping one eye open and scanning the faces of the professed brothers who seemed, effortlessly, to sink into a profound silence and stillness that had a quality of presence and peace to it that we as yet could barely fathom. We soon recognised that amongst the brethren there was one brother whose silence spoke to us novices louder than any of the books on meditation we had been given. He would enter the choir, (the wood panelled private chapel of the friary), with the rest of the brothers, make his genuflection toward the Blessed Sacrament and then he would simply... sit. His body folding into prayer with the ease of a well oiled mechanism seemed so used to these movements from countless repetitions. He sat a little forward, his spine straight, his eyes closed, his hands deftly folded in his lap, his breathing so deep it was barely perceptible. He was alert and relaxed, peaceful and dynamic, still and yet vibrating with energy. His name was Brother Berard; and he was, we novices agreed amongst ourselves, the best at all this... and probably a saint to boot.

The late Brother Berard who taught Meditation and Contemplative practice to us as Novices

So you can imagine our excitement when a few weeks later our Novice Master told us that we would be taking lessons in meditation with Br. Berard. We talked about what we would ask him, mentally got our questions ready, and spent quite a few meditation periods surrepticiously studying him closely. Finally the morning came. We gathered around the table in the novitiate classroom. He came in quietly, said a short prayer invoking the Holy Spirit, Our Lady and St. Francis as was always the custom before a talk and then he sat with us. We were silent. He glanced at us with bright eyes that belied his age, steepled his hands, looked at the ground, and in his slow deep voice asked us what we understood by the word “meditation”. It was as though a dam had burst! Questions, comments, theories tumbled out of us born of our few weeks of frustrated, distracted “practice”. When at last we were done, Brother Berard, who had not moved throughout, regarded us for a moment in silence and gently said, “Sons, meditation is simply closing your eyes and getting out of God’s way.”  We were stunned, we had expected techniques, secrets, teachings…it was to be a few months before we were to realise that in that one single sentence we had received all of that and more besides.

As the weeks went on Brother Berard did teach us deeply; we encountered our minds and their multiple layers, we dwelt in our breath, learned to recognise both distractions and the touches of grace that came in their midst and often despite them, and we were taught not to get attached to either, letting each simply arise, be and depart. We learned the ancient techniques for centering our attention, becoming mindful, stilling the thoughts, and becoming present to the One who IS always present to us in love. We were slowly learning to get out of God’s way… something I am still learning to do to this day. What sounded simple on that winter’s morning in the Novititate seems now to be the work of a lifetime and the discipline that truly allows one to be a real disciple is one that must be embraced daily and even begun again in every moment. 

Now that I find myself teaching others the way of mindfulness, the way of meditative prayer in the Christian tradition, I hear myself quoting Brother Berard often! His words and, above all, the example of his practice still invite me to deepen my own stillness, mindfulness and presence so as to encounter Divine Presence, and it is to his memory, and the memory of countless brothers with whom I have been blessed to share so many moments of meditation and prayer, that I dedicate this blog. 

In the coming days and weeks I hope to share with you some of the basic insights, teachings and techniques of the Christian meditative mindful tradition and invite you to practice these ancient forms of prayer that allow us to get out of God’s way in our own lives… 

Until the next time,

Peace and Joy to you and yours always...

Brother Richard

Monday Thoughts:

Monday thoughts:
There is never a room that you will enter that Divine Love is not already in.
There is never a conversation you will have that Divine Silence is not already a part of.
There is never a place that you will go to that Divine Providence is not already holding in being.
There is never a person you will meet who is not already the temple of Divine Presence.
There is never a wound suffered that is not already an encounter with Divine Mercy.
There is never a breath that is not already Divine Breath breathing in your breath the breath of Love.
There is never a moment passed that is not already an experience of the Divine Now of Grace.
So be at peace...and simply...gently...yield to the awareness of Divine Presence and know that in the yielding is the opening

awareness of Love.

Stormlight: A meditation poem

Stormlight:
Storms
bring their own light;
sharp lined
and
lightening cut,
by which old truth
assumes
the beauty
of the new
and
Mother Earth
eden breathes
again,
if only for a
moment.

Their rain,
drilling down,
brooks no opposition,
gives no quarter,
and must be
simply received
and submitted to,
while abandoning
any pretense
at shelter
or even
flight,
and then,
if yielded to,
births
joy
of
spirit.

In their
thundering
they bring us
the gift
of
a child's
sacred silence;
awe, fear and
newborn wonder,
in one
ecstasy of
being,
leveling all
with the
remembering
of our true
littleness
now
Illumed again
by
storm light.

So do not
fear the storm,
whether
sky or soul
born,
but welcome it,
with open arms
and heart
as heaven sent
and grace gifted,
the winds
and clouds
that
thunder truth
and
join our skies
to earth
in jagged
strike of
light,
revealing,
of a sudden,
the sharp gold
of
wisdom
as we breathe again
the
rich truth smell
of earth
after
rain.

St. Mary of the Angels: The Portiuncula

Today, (August 2nd), we in the Franciscan Family keep the Feast of Our Lady of the Angels!

This is the patronal title of the Blessed Virgin under which St. Francis placed the Order. St. Francis had great devotion to Our Lady under this title due to his repairing of the little chapel of the "Portiuncula" (little portion) in the woods outside Assisi and becoming devoted to it as a place of prayer and meditation in which the earliest brothers gathered and St. Clare was first received into her vows, where St. Francis had a number of visions on Our Lady and the Angels and received the famous privilege of the "Pardon of Assisi" from the Pope, (a plenary indulgence that anyone may receive under the usual conditions in any church throughout the world in honour of Our Lady of the Angels.)
Finally, it was at the Portiuncula also that Francis greeted Sister Death and passed to the Lord in the year 1226.

Today the little chapel still exists now surrounded and protected by a great Basilica where pilgrims gather to this day...
Some prayers in honour of Our Lady by St. Francis follow so you can pray with us today.
Hail, Lady and Queen,
holy Mary, Mother of God,
Virgin who became the Church,
chosen by the Father in heaven,
consecrated by his beloved Son
and his Spirit, the Comforter:
in you was and remains,
the whole fullness of grace
and everything that is good.
Hail, his palace,
hail, his tabernacle,
hail, his dwelling,
hail, his robe,
hail, his handmaid,
hail, his mother!

O holy Mother,
sweet and fair to see,
for us beseech the King,
your dearest Son,
our Lord Jesus Christ,
to death for us delivered:
that in his pitying clemency,
and by virtue of his most holy incarnation
and bitter death,
he may pardon our sins.

Holy Virgin Mary,
among all the women of the world,
there is none like you.
You are the daughter and handmaid of the most high King,
Father of heaven.
You are the mother of our most holy Lord Jesus Christ.
You are the bride of the Holy Spirit.
Pray for us, with St. Michael the archangel,
and all the powers of heaven
and all the saints,
to your most holy and beloved Son,
our Lord and Master, Amen.