Meditation for the Second Sunday of Advent

 Meditation for the Second Sunday of Advent: 

The second candle of Advent:  the Candle of Peace.

In kindling its flame we choose to stand in the purifying fire of Divine Peace.

For this Peace is no mere cessation of conflict, though that is indeed one of its fruits;

but an annual eternal journey into a way of being that is both ever ancient and ever new.

It is a Peace which restores and then surpasses our original blessing in the wedding of humanity and divinity we call Incarnation.

This Peace is at once a resting and re-setting of our whole being in Shalom: Divine Peace.

This is the kind of peace we long for, the peace we are made for and the peace that this world can never give, though those who yearn for it truly will find its seeds sown in the field of the world as His parting gift. 

Tonight this purple pillared flame beckons us on a journey of Peace.

Burning away all false peace within us until we are empty of all desire but that which calls across the endless ages and reveals the fundamental longing for communion with the One who is Love, who is Peace, who simply IS and in whose Holy Communion we find in turn the fullness of communion with all creation, with all that is in the embrace of the One who is Emmanuel: God with us… the Prince of Peace.

So this is our heavenly Peace for which there is no price too high to pay, no loss too great to suffer in order that we may touch its healing fire and yet all that Love angel-asks in return is simply be of good will towards all… short words we hear each year for the life long journey to Bethlehem’s blessing… 

So then we pray let this candle be a light guiding our feet into the way of Peace.

Cold Moon: a meditation poem for the last night of November

 A Meditation for the Last night of November

Cold Moon

The 

full moon 

winks 

through heavy lidded 

skies tonight,

sailing wild

over the silvered 

bay,

cold and bright

in her 

wintry solitude.

Beneath 

her serene 

gaze

the year is 

long toothed

and

aching in its 

cold November 

bones,

now so ready 

to be

advent

wreathed

again

in warmth.

Huddled hearthward,

we lose 

ourselves

in longing

for that 

kindle quartered 

light

that in its 

time circling

joy

greens the heart 

again, 

makes children 

of us

all,

and promises 

the wild joy

of eternity's 

song

of ever new 

beginning,

bursting into

time,

and heard

by heart's 

expectant ear

in a baby's

first

cry.

#contemplation #mindfulness #mystical #meditation #franciscan #advent #ardsfriary #november #moon #forest #grace #peace #poem #catholic #mindfulness #mystical #grace #capuchin #winter #night #spirituality

First Sunday of Advent: Hope

 First Sunday of Advent:

The Candle of Hope has been lit.
A reminder that as Christians we are not a people of despair, or of darkness or of hand wringing worry and judgementalism over a weak and withered world.
We are a people of optimism, mercy, kindness and compassion who know that hope is renewed daily, that the light has overcome the dark and that history lies safe and secure in the hands of the One who is Love, who came as a Lamb and will return as a Lion...

Blessings +

Advent Vespers

 The Holy Season of Advent begins at sundown with the lighting of the first candle of the Advent wreaths and the Office of Vespers this evening...an old meditation poem for this evergreen moment of turning towards the light in the midst of darkness follows...

Advent Vespers

At the thinnest time 

of the year,

when

the worlds whisper 

to each other 

across the cosmos,

and tell their ancient tales

while the darkness draws in,

we draw the cloak of comfort

close against the cold.

And,

at our vesper vigiling,

a spark is struck 

then

enfolded 

in the ever-green,

that circle of 

hoped for Spring,

sprinkled

with blood-berried scarlet,

of wounds wilding, 

and see

once again

time's yearning path

retold 

in leaves,

the slow greening

of patriarch's prayer 

and prophet's longing.

So we wreathe ourselves 

in hope,

again,

as 

a wavering flame 

proclaims 

faith's abiding presence 

beyond 

dark's doubting 

and 

invokes the coming 

of the One who 

is always present;

knowing that 

as flame will beget flame

until

the candled constellation 

is complete,

and our caroled voices 

rise 

to join the sister stars 

in their long remembering 

of that ancient night 

when,

once, 

they 

stilled their dance 

awhile,

and,

awestruck,

watched

the silent Word 

appear,

whose light,

now hidden 

beneath

Mary's mantle

and

settled on straw,

first

kindled their flame 

and 

set the measure 

of their orbit's pace.

But,

in this moment's breathing 

we 

simply stand 

and psalm our way 

to Advent's

gates of longing,

and there,

with open hands

and heart's made poor again,

we are gentled 

by a single flame's

appearing,

and watch 

soul's inward sky

for Grace's 

first falling 

flake,

as children

look up

and long 

for 

snow.

Our Nesting Season?

Nesting Season


There is always
a choice.
Perhaps in these
strange moments
it is a simple one;
to dwell on
what has been taken away
or to dwell
in what we have been given;
to build our nests anew
weaving safe and soft
a chance to breathe,
with all the terrible
possibility that brings;
to reflect,
to wonder,
to sit anew
in the secret depths
of those actions
of holy ordinariness;
eating,
drinking,
walking,
sleeping,
cleaning,
being with,
being alone,
simply being.
Taking the time
to watch the earth
reset and heal,
to allow our inner
sky to clear of
all our worry weather,
often as grey
and insubstantial
as clouds,
until the
one thing necessary
shines through
at last,
and we see
the present moment,
sky blue,
and fragile
as a blackbird’s egg,
nesting secure
in the heart,
deep within
the brambled hedge
of our thorn tangled
thoughts,
awaiting the stillness
of a spring morning
when we grant ourselves
new greening,
awaiting the sunbeam
of divine attention
to warm it to life,
awaiting our
sitting breath,
faith feathered
and yielding,
to hatch within us
a new way.

Brother Richard

Mar 30th 2020

St. Patrick, Pandemic, and the Divine Presence of God: Brooke Taylor wit...

An interview with Brooke Taylor for the Feast of St. Patrick covering all things Pandemic too.

May it bring you and yours blessings for the feast and let us all pray that St. Patrick may intercede for a quick cessation to the current viral pandemic.

You can access the interview at this link:

interview on St. Patrick, the pandemic and the Divine Presence

Lockdown - Brother Richard Hendrick

With thanks to Fr. Michael Surufka OFM: A sharing of my poem Lockdown that took place in the US yesterday... How wonderful that we can share our community even in the midst of the difficulties of this time: The text of the poem follows:



Lockdown

Yes there is fear.
Yes there is isolation.
Yes there is panic buying.
Yes there is sickness.
Yes there is even death.
But,
They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise
You can hear the birds again.
They say that after just a few weeks of quiet
The sky is no longer thick with fumes
But blue and grey and clear.
They say that in the streets of Assisi
People are singing to each other
across the empty squares,
keeping their windows open
so that those who are alone
may hear the sounds of family around them.
They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland
Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.
Today a young woman I know
is busy spreading fliers with her number
through the neighbourhood
So that the elders may have someone to call on.
Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples
are preparing to welcome
and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary
All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting
All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way
All over the world people are waking up to a new reality
To how big we really are.
To how little control we really have.
To what really matters.
To Love.
So we pray and we remember that
Yes there is fear.
But there does not have to be hate.
Yes there is isolation.
But there does not have to be loneliness.
Yes there is panic buying.
But there does not have to be meanness.
Yes there is sickness.
But there does not have to be disease of the soul
Yes there is even death.
But there can always be a rebirth of love.
Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.
Today, breathe.
Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic
The birds are singing again
The sky is clearing,
Spring is coming,
And we are always encompassed by Love.
Open the windows of your soul
And though you may not be able
to touch across the empty square,
Sing.

March 13th 2020