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A Fundraiser Concert at St George's R.C. Cathedral, Southwark

Memory in the biblical sense of the term is not simply storage of the sediment of the past. It is also the humus from which life never stops borrowing. As the memory of the Church, Tradition represents the permanence of a Word which is always alive, always enriched, and yet radically the same, where the Church never ceases to nourish its faith.

A Fundraiser Concert at St George's R.C. Cathedral, Southwark

The new monastery door sign

I was thinking about angels, it being the feast of SS Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, and the unwillingness of our generation to admit their power or influence. It is not that angels don't exist, we just don't recognize them nor do we want to. Angels are messengers of God and as such not always welcome. How much easier to deny their existence, close our ears and eyes and live within our own little world, safe from the mystery that is God? It won't wash, of course, God will keep bursting in upon us in unexpected ways. In a sense, you could describe the recent visit of Pope Benedict XVI as an "angelic visitation". He came and spoke to us of God; some opened their hearts to his message, others turned away; but it was the message, not the messenger, that ultimately matters.

The papacy is a sign pointing beyond itself to God and there are many similar signs in the world. One which is frequently argued over is the religious habit. Recently, The Anchoress wrote a thoughtful and deliberately provocative column on the subject which you can find here. The resulting debate is interesting on several counts. Not surprisingly, the majority of those who responded came down on the side of nuns and sisters wearing habits. Equally unsurprisingly, the majority of those wanting nuns and sisters to wear habits appear not to be nuns or sisters themselves but lay men and women. One or two linked not wearing the habit with a lack of faith or prayer, an opinion I would regard as defamatory except that it was probably made without really thinking. Many of the comments effectively proved my own point: that people who are not themselves nuns or sisters feel perfectly entitled to lay down the law about what nuns and sisters should wear, how they should behave and so on and so forth.

Leaving aside the historical/canonical inaccuracies and misunderstandings which are inevitable in such discussions, I was left wondering why it is acceptable to prescribe what religious women should wear while saying little or nothing about religious men. And why should lay people, especially men, presume to tell religious women what to wear? You have only to recall recent discussions about the dress code for Muslim women to see that it is a trifle contradictory. It is no good arguing that one is merely insisting that religious women follow the directives of Rome. Oddly enough, most of us are well-informed about what is required and take care to obey, even when some directives read a little quaintly (you should see what Sponsa Verbi had to say about fax machines at a time when most of us were already using email).

The community here wears a traditional habit and is happy to do so. We are well aware of the sign-value of the monastic habit and can give a good account of it; but it is not the habit which makes us nuns. I cannot help wondering whether there is a little false romanticism in lay enthusiasm for religious dress, a sneaking suspicion that the desire to make sure we act in certain ways, meet standards set for us by those who are not living our way of life (e.g. never angry, never tired, though the Lord Jesus was both), and regarding us as somehow not quite adult, is actually bound up with something few would acknowledge: a desire for vicarious holiness. The truth is, we are not children, nor are we angels in the popular sense. We are something much more glorious: redeemed sinners, signs of the KIngdom, even, sometimes and without our knowing, messengers of God.

A Fundraiser Concert at St George's R.C. Cathedral, Southwark

• Benedict XVI's visit is a State visit; he didn't ask to come, he was invited by Gordon Brown. It would be shameful if he weren't accorded the respect we normally show to visitors, and tax-payers are not funding the whole cost of the visit.
• The media often gets things wrong; the misunderstanding of the recent updating of canon law (regarding clerics guilty of abuse and the ordination of women) is a case in point.
• The abuse of children and vulnerable adults is not and never can be acceptable; there have been terrible failures, but the Church is not to be defined by these failures (it is outrageous to accuse the whole Church of being paedophiles, for example); it is difficult to be sure how many instances of abuse there have been or whether Catholic priests are more prone to abuse than, say, married men - the statistics we have seen suggest the reverse - but the clumsy and defensive responses of some bishops have not helped.
• Marriage of the clergy is not in itself a remedy for abuse, and presenting it as such is insulting to women; Colophon is planning a post on the meaning of celibacy later this month, with a few figures for those who assume that the Church in this country could afford a change in the present discipline.
• Pope Benedict XVI has done a great deal to cleanse the Church of the "filth" he himself has identified within its ranks; the Church in England and Wales has very robust procedures in place for safeguarding children and vulnerable adults, and a clear procedure for dealing with offences.
• Not everyone rolled out by the media for a "Catholic perspective" on things is well-informed or even aware, sometimes, of what the Church actually teaches; Colophon offers a special caution against taking the opinions of former politicians as anything other than opinions.

Let us set it down then, as a first principle in religion, that all of us must come to Christ, in some sense or other, through things naturally unpleasant to us; it may be even through bodily suffering, such as the Apostles endured, or it may be nothing more than the subduing of our natural infirmities and the sacrifice of our natural wishes; it may be pain greater or pain less, on a public stage or a private one; but, till the words "yoke" and "cross" can stand for something pleasant, the bearing of our yoke and cross is something not pleasant; and though rest is promised as our reward, yet the way to rest must lie through discomfort and distress of heart.

I've dug this nice little hole in your garden and I'm not coming out till it's cooler!

• what you hope to obtain from interaction with our community (or indeed, any monastic community)
• what you would like to see added to/subtracted from our online presence.

On a recent visit to a nearby monastery, we were thrilled to spot this bird’s nest above the entrance door. Seeing wild creatures close up is always heart-warming. One forgets that nature is “red in tooth and claw” and registers only the beauty and the vulnerability. In a similar manner, photos of the devastating effects of the oil-slicks in the Gulf of Mexico are changing the way in which we look at the problems they pose. The BP oil-rig disaster is being transformed from a personal tragedy (eleven dead and hundreds, if not thousands, losing their livelihoods) and ecological catastrophe into something potentially even more damaging.

The Obama administration’s attacks on BP (which, by the way, has not been “British Petroleum” since about the mid 1990s) are in danger of losing sight of the larger picture. One can understand the frustration, the political need to be seen to be doing something, but is the invective achieving anything positive? Driving down the BP share price, putting BP bonds into what is, to all effects and purposes, the junk category, and whipping up anti-British sentiment does no one any favours. Thirty-nine percent of BP is owned by U.S. investors, which has implications for US pension funds; and there is the inconvenient fact that putting British lives at risk in Afghanistan in what is widely perceived here as an American conflict is highly unpopular. Is there not a danger that a rift may be opened up which will have even more dire consequences than all that oil spilling into the sea?

So, where does the Sacred Heart, whose Solemnity we keep today, come into all this? With reverence, I would say at the very centre. Wherever there is human need and suffering, you will find God, although not perhaps the God you think you will find, the beautiful and transcendent Person untouched by the messiness of human existence. The Sacred Heart of Jesus is, as Isaiah said long ago, disfigured by our sin. We need to look beyond the obvious. That wounded Heart, which spilled its life-blood for us, is both a challenge and an encouragement. It challenges us to accept pain and suffering and sacrifice for the sake of others; it also encourages us to look forward to the hope of redemption. Somehow, all of us, both as individuals and as nation states, have got to learn how to lay aside our prejudices, our short-term triumphs over one another. What is happening now in the Gulf of Mexico may prove to have important consequences for us all. May the Sacred Heart of Jesus inspire and guide us. To see with his Heart is, after all, the surest way of seeing clearly.

Could austerity become fashionable again? Yesterday’s speech by David Cameron made me think of wartime Britain. The austerity measures imposed by war resulted in a population which was actually healthier than ever before and, I think, more generous than before: witness the Welfare State and the opportunities offered by free education from primary to tertiary level. It is the generation to which I belong, the Baby Boomers, which has squandered that inheritance. We are now fatter, greedier and more reckless in our exploitation of the earth’s resources. Our selfishness means that young people today have a much less optimistic future than we once had.

However, I don’t think the budgetary cuts for which we are being prepared are necessarily all bad news. “Going without” is not in itself virtuous, can indeed be harmful, but if we are honest, we know that while we may not have everything we would like, most of us have all we need and more. The age of austerity upon which we are entering will certainly shake us out of our complacency. When we can no longer assume a right to this or that (holidays overseas, a designer label, or what you will), we shall be forced to reconsider where our priorities lie. Britain has a fine record for charitable giving, but when we can no longer give from our abundance but must share from more modest resources, we shall learn the true meaning of generosity. Is it too much to hope that we might become nicer people, more willing to help others, more kindly?

There will be some for whom the cuts will do more than trim the fat from their existence. There will be people who will suffer, whose incomes will not stretch to provide for all their needs and those of their families. I think we can be confident that the Churches will be in the forefront of trying to help. For some, that will mean a major shift in focus from the world “out there” to nearer home. With luck, or perhaps I should say grace, we might spend less time and energy on our internal squabbles and dissensions and more on learning how to be genuinely compassionate. If so, austerity will not only improve our physical health, it should do wonders for our spiritual health, too.

(Photo shows Duncan helping to compose a Colophon entry).

While we await a visit from BT which we hope will restore our connectivity with the outside world, we thought we would share this photograph with you (assuming our Broadband connection lasts long enough to upload it). It shows the chapel of the house where we stayed while D. Lucy enjoyed her delayed Silver Jubilee pilgrimage to Assisi. Here we prayed Lauds and Vespers, perched on the warm stone of the side walls, looking out over the green heart of Italy, with Hoopoes and Golden Orioles adding their song to ours. It was a magical few days for which we are profoundly grateful.

Holy Joseph, faithful follower of Jesus and loving spouse of his mother Mary, we believe that your prayers are powerful with God. We ask you to help us with your intercession, that what we ask in faith may be found pleasing in his sight and may be granted to us from the abundance of his mercy. We thank you for the many blessings we have received through your intercession. Pray for us now that we may become what we most desire to be, perfect disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ: who lives and reigns with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever. Amen.

Holy Joseph, faithful follower of Jesus and loving spouse of his mother Mary, we believe that your prayers are powerful with God. We ask you to help us with your intercession, that what we ask in faith may be found pleasing in his sight and may be granted to us from the abundance of his mercy. We thank you for the many blessings we have received through your intercession. Pray for us now that we may become what we most desire to be, perfect disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ: who lives and reigns with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever. Amen.

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Duncan hears Gordon Brown call himself "a penitent sinner".

Christ is risen, alleluia! Those words have rung out from countless churches and chapels throughout the centuries as they ring out today. He is risen indeed, alleluia! For eight days we shall celebrate Easter day, then for six weeks more we shall celebrate the Easter season. All the sin and shabbiness which disfigures our lives is redeemed, transformed by the love poured out upon us. The Resurrection is too big to be grasped, we can only kneel in wonder at God's amazing, reckless generosity. Today, when we are all tired after the drama of the Triduum, the splendour of the liturgy, the sheer effort involved in making Easter a day of celebration, we do well to rest if we can. To rest in God is to allow him full scope to act, and isn't that what we most desire?

For those who expressed an interest in a plainsong ringtone, here is a little Easter present for you. Right click the image to download the linked file and save to your desktop, then transfer to your mobile via bluetooth or USB cable (the sound quality is not brilliant, but that keeps the file size small).

The Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord is one of the most attractive feasts in the Church calendar. There is always something fresh to ponder in Luke's account (1.26-38), while the abundance of music, poetry and art devoted to this subject is amazing. We must not lose sight of the fact, however, that we are remembering an event in history which was to have consequences for us all. Our salvation, and that of the whole world, hung upon the readiness of an obscure young girl (perhaps as young as twelve or thirteen) to do what God asked of her. All the Fathers agree that Mary's consent was necessary for the Redemption to take place. That does not mean that God would not have redeemed us had Mary not given her consent but that God foresaw her acceptance from all eternity (cfr St Thomas, Summa III.30). It was indeed a moment of unequalled faith: of Mary in God, and of God in Mary.

Recently I learned that there is a delightful legend said to come from Nazareth. The Angel Gabriel found Mary sitting by a fountain. Not surprisingly, his appearance startled her and she fled from him in fear. He followed her into the house to deliver his message, which is why the Annunciation is often depicted as taking place inside. In fact, the iconography of the Annunciation is a fascinating study in itself. Early Christian depictions usually show Gabriel as an angel of the Old Testament, severe and terrifying, before whom Mary kneels tremblingly. From about the twelfth century onwards, a new lyricism transforms the scene. The stiff hieratic forms yield to something much more youthful and human. Now Gabriel kneels before Mary. To be the Mother of God is to be exalted above the angels. Paradoxically, it is Mary's humility and obedience that lifts her so high.

A podcast about the Annunciation has been posted here.

We can let you into a little secret. St Cecilia's Guild is about to be renamed and will soon become Veilaudio. We hope the new name will not only describe better what our audio service to the blind and visually impaired actually is but also help identify it more immediately with the monastery. We already have Veilnet (for web design and hosting), Veilpress (for typography and printing and Veilshop (for retail sales). If you are wondering about the use of "veil", it is a play on "vale" (as in Vale of White Horse, where we live) and a nod in the direction of our being nuns. We have a simple logo (see above) to go with the new name and will be launching it properly when our rejigged web site goes "live".

No podcast this week because we have lent our HandyZoom to a friend. After using the Zoom any other audio seems inferior, and since we don't consciously do inferior here, you are spared our ramblings for a few more days.

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• how can I know God is calling me?
• how and when should I tell my parents what I want to do?
• is it useful to have some work experience before I enter the seminary/religious community?
• how important is it to share the same Faith in marriage?
• what is the difference between nuns and sisters?
• is it a vocation to be single?

For one to attempt to speak of God in terms more precise than he himself has used: to undertake such a thing is to embark upon the boundless, to dare the incomprehensible. He fixed the names of His nature: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Whatever is sought over and above this is beyond the meaning of words, beyond the limits of perception, beyond the embrace of understanding."

See, dear Lord, how I have wandered the world and (have seen) those things which are in the world….In these I sought rest for my unhappy soul, but everywhere (I found) labour and lament, sorrow and affliction of spirit. You cried out, Lord; you cried out and called. You terrified me and shattered my deafness. You struck, you flogged, you conquered my hardheartedness. You sweetened, you flavoured, you banished my bitterness. I heard you calling, but, alas, how late.

Sheep may safely graze, but only because the farmer has been out dropping feed. The scene by Hill Farm at eight o'clock this morning.

St Mary's Church glimpsed through the hedge a little later. The silence was almost complete, suggesting that the A34 rush-hour didn't happen this morning. Snow is a very effective muffler of sound, so Digitalnun began thinking of all her favourite quotations about snow, ending with "Soft as roosting birds falls the snow". That one is from scripture. If you have nothing else to do today because you can't get to work, why not spend half an hour looking at references to snow in the bible? You might be surprised how many there are.

Update: we have just heard of the death of Mgr Graham Leonard. Please pray for the repose of the soul of this great priest and pastor, for the consolation of his widow, Priscilla, and for his many friends who mourn his passing even as they rejoice that his sufferings are at an end. Requiescat in pace.

Epiphany is one of my favourite feasts, steeped in beauty and mystery, with many levels of meaning. The Magnificat antiphon reminds us of the miraculous ways in which Christ manifested his glory. "We honour the day adorned with three miracles. Today a star led the Magi to the crib; today water was made into wine for the wedding-feast; today Christ willed to be baptized in the Jordan." Thus, Christ showed his glory to the gentiles, prepared the Church as his Bride and made holy all the waters of the earth, taking away our sin. There in a nutshell is what Incarnation and Redemption is all about. Theology expressed as poetry, music and ritual is probably the only way some of us can begin to grasp such sublime Truth.

Life is not all theology, however. One of the things that keeps me Catholic is the fact that it is such a cheerful religion: it doesn't fudge death and judgement, heaven and hell; doesn't promise (contrary to what many believe) an easy forgiveness for sin; but it does allow us to be human and to take seriously what it means for God to become human also. As an Englishwoman, I especially like the way in which it lets us use humour as a means of approaching God and the things of God.

The photograph above from Autun shows a medieval sculptor's idea of the Magi on their way to the crib: all three cosily tucked up in bed, two of them with eyes fast shut, the third being gently awoken by an angel touching his little finger and pointing out the star they must follow. Medieval ideas of the majesty of kingship crumble before this tender portrait. It too tells us something about Epiphany. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords is as humble and approachable as a baby in a manger; and who would not smile at such a welcome and welcoming thought?

The Flight into Egypt by Nicholas Mynheer
Copyright © Nicholas Mynheer. Reproduction prohibited.
Used here by kind permission of the artist

Today's gospel is Matthew's account of the flight into Egypt. When I first typed those words I wrote "light into Egypt" which not only seemed peculiarly appropriate but also called to mind the above painting by Nicholas Mynheer. No, I am not going to "explain" the symbolism but just let you meditate on all the imagery suggests. You can find more of Nicholas's work at his new web site, http://www.mynheer-art.co.uk/

VERBUM CARO FACTUM EST

We wish all our oblates, associates, friends and cybervisitors
a very happy Christmas.
May the Prince of Peace fill your hearts and homes
with joy and gladness.
We shall keep you in our prayers.
Mass will be offered for your intentions
on Monday, 28 December.

THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH

JOY TO ALL THE WORLD

One of the most beautiful parts of the Christmas Eve liturgy is the singing of the Martyrology which situates the birth of Christ in time and place. When we reach the words "All the earth being at peace . . ." the music becomes more and more intense, until finally the Incarnation is announced on a falling cadence. When God has uttered his Word, there is no need for further speech.

We begin Advent with three days of as near-perfect silence as we can manage, to allow time for reflection on the mystery of the Word who became man for our sakes. Choir continues, of course, and the angels are allowed to sing (think Hilton, angel-song . . .) but otherwise we try to keep speaking and writing to a minimum. So, no blogging and no tweeting until Wednesday unless there is some overwhelming reason for doing so.

Our podcast for the first Sunday of Advent will be found on the podcast page.

Finally, our apologies to all who had difficulty getting into the Virtual Chapter on 28 November: Digitalnun was locked out of the system for half an hour and when she was finally allowed in, there were some "audio issues". Beelzebub having his own back perhaps? We are grateful for all the positive feedback and will arrange another Chapter in a fortnight's time, on Saturday 12 December, when we'll explore the subject of prayer. There is a partial recording of the 28 November discussion on the podcast page.

• how can a lay person "live" the Rule of St Benedict?
• how can a lay person live a life of prayer?
• does being an oblate help?
• why are Benedictine communities all so different?

• why did you become a nun?

The Bow in the Clouds: East Hendred 8.30 a.m. 26 November 2009

Thanksgiving Day is a good idea. Here is Digitalnun's personal grateful list for 26 November 2009: for family and friends, especially the awkward ones, and life in community; Duncan's comical nose, snuggled into his blanket; the soft gleam of the sanctuary lamp and the quiet of the oratory; books spilling into every corner; night-scented stock still blooming against the wall; the shock of cold water; grey light on the horizon; the busy patter of squirrels in the roofspace; the De Profundis chanted trustingly at Vigils; fresh bread baking in the kitchen; a manageable inbox; the promise of another day. For all, Deo Gratias.

Update: Coming back from walking the dog at 8.30 a.m. we saw this double rainbow in the sky over Hendred House (you can just make out the second bow at the east end of the house). The bow in the clouds is a sign of God's first covenant, a covenant made with the whole of creation. Something more for which to give thanks.

On this day in 1477 William Caxton issued the first book in English actually printed in England, or so we believe. It was Dictes or Sayengis of the Philosophres (Sayings of the Philosophers) translated from the French by Anthony Rivers, second Earl Rivers, a learned man and brother-in-law of Edward IV, beheaded in 1483 by the future Richard III. The colophon (detail illustrated above) is fascinating. It shows type trying to look like handwriting but with some ugly word spacing and contrasting weights of letter-forms. Having said that, the page is remarkably evenly inked, while the use of punctuation (a Cistercian innovation of some centuries earlier) makes the text easy to read. No wonder many in Westminster were deeply worried about this new technology. It was to have a great future. You wouldn't be reading this if it hadn't.

One of the developments of Web 2.0 we particularly welcome here at Hendred is the renewed interest in typography, specifically typography for onscreen use. Our current site is typographically merely "functional" but there are many examples of really beautiful work on the web which is quietly raising standards. Sadly, many people are happy to stick to Arial (probably the worst typeface ever designed in our unprejudiced view) or Times (an excellent typeface, but over-used) or "don't see what all the fuss is about". It is the latter which sends Digitalnun into despondency. If you want to know why, read Beatrice Warde's little gem on the importance of typography, The Crystal Goblet. It will open your eyes.

Sunday is always special in a monastery, the gift of a day which has its own unique character. Although in one sense we are busier than ever, with a more elaborate liturgy and a commitment to more prayer and reading than on ferias, there is a silence and spaciousness about Sunday which is a valuable corrective to the rush and racket of the rest of the week. Visitors often drop in, and somehow there is always time to share a cup of tea or coffee with them, even if the cook is going quietly demented in the kitchen and the dog is indicating that he wants some "me time" out on the Downs.

Yesterday I spent a few moments looking at a special gift we received earlier this year. When we began planning our guest room, we asked our good friend Martin Wenham if we could commission him to do a painting. (if you take to heart what Benedict says about treating guests as though Christ, you will understand that only the best is good enough. Add to that the prioress's inconvenient and potentially expensive preference for original works of art over Catholic kitsch, and you'll see we couldn't put just anything on the wall.) Typically, Martin produced a painting which he simply gave to the community. The reproduction above does not do it justice. It shimmers and shines as the light changes and is a beautiful reminder of the friendships God brings into our lives to enrich and sustain them.

Today we shall receive another special gift. "Someone else" is doing the cooking, and she-who-cooks-Sunday-lunch every week in the interval between Mass and Midday Office is sending up unseasonal "alleluias" as she contemplates all that she will do, or rather not do, with the time this generous act of a friend will give her.

Gifts don't have to be complicated to be special. They don't have to be huge or expensive, though they always cost the giver something. One of the gifts I remember best may strike you as a mere nothing, although the memory of it has stayed with me for years. I was working late in a University Library on a sweltering hot summer's day and the Librarian looked exhausted. As I returned a book and thanked her, she gave a brilliant smile. A smile like that can only come from the pure in heart, from those who see God and reverence Him in others. "Smile Sunday" anyone?

This week's prayer podcast will be found in its new position on the Podcast page. There is also another talk on the Talks page, by Dr Annette Goulden OCDS on St Thérèse of Lisieux.

Salve festa dies! Rather a lot of people to celebrate today, from St Benedict himself, Father of Western Monasticism, to Dorothy Day, Benedictine Oblate and Servant of God. (Before anyone asks, the stages of canonisation, or official proclamation as a saint in the Catholic Church, go Servant of God–Venerable–Blessed–Saint).

One of the things I like about Dorothy Day is the fact that she was so honest: about her life ("Don't call me a saint – I don't want to be dismissed that easily"), her temper ("I hold more temper in one minute than you will hold in your entire life"), and God ("If I have accomplished anything in my life, it is because I wasn't embarrassed to talk about God"). She was certainly never held back by embarrassment in any sphere, and thank God for that. She was prickly and prophetic, utterly centred on Christ.

Honesty is very closely linked to the humility St Benedict saw as the foundation of monastic living. It isn't easy to be honest. Most of us make all sorts of accommodations and compromises to shield ourselves from the truth, even though we know, deep down, that letting the Light into our lives is the only way to freedom and peace. St Benedict urges us everyday to open our eyes to the light that comes from God. Isn't it encouraging that we have so many men and women as different as Benedict and Dorothy to show us the way?

• Headphones for listening (or turn the volume of your speakers up)
• A microphone for talking (if you have a Mac you can use the built-in one)

• click on the widget on our home page or in the sidebar of this blog OR
• paste this link into your browser http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/69374

O Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God and our most gentle Queen and Mother, look down in mercy upon England, thy dowry, and upon us all who greatly hope and trust in thee. By thee it was that Jesus, our Saviour and our hope, was given unto the world; and He has given thee to us that we might hope still more. Plead for us thy children, whom thou didst receive and accept at the foot of the cross, O Sorrowful Mother. Intercede for our separated brethren, that with us in the one true fold, they may be united to the Chief Shepherd, the Vicar of thy Son. Pray for us all, dear Mother, that by faith, fruitful in good works, we may all deserve to see and praise God, together with thee in our heavenly home. Amen.

Excellent talk on St Thérèse by Annette Goulden last night. We'll be putting it up on our Talks page once we've been through the recording. As a Child Psychiatrist, Annette made a good case for Thérèse's having survived what was, by any standards, an extraordinary childhood to become a woman of rare confidence and courage, far removed from the sickly-sweet "Little Flower" of popular myth. Another group expected today and more people at the week-end, so the kitchen is piled with dishes waiting to be cooked or frozen as appropriate. Next week-end we have a group wanting a day on Hildegarde of Bingen so we have elected the prioress to give a talk on her. The news was greeted with a dangerously "blotting-paper" look, so we wonder what we have let ourselves in for. The new choir psalters are proving a success: much better layout and printing than heretofore, although the paper is not all it might be. The garden is still full of colour, which is a joy, and last Sunday's short talks after Mass on the work of St Cecilia's have resulted in some generous offers of help. More about that at a later date. So, life continues as usual, with various activities going on in different parts of the monastery, all held together and given coherence by the regular round of prayer and worship largely unseen (or not adverted to) by those outside the cloister. Thérèse wanted to be love at the heart of the Church. Perhaps for a Benedictine it is a case of wanting to be love and praise at the heart of the Church.

No doubt someone will ask why Colophon is quoting from the Book of Common Prayer, but "the kindly fruits of the earth" is an apt and beautiful phrase to describe the plentiful harvest we have enjoyed from our own garden and those of our friends. At the moment, the thought of food is still a little unwelcome to the community, but with that selfless determination characteristic of Benedictines, we thought we should enter into the spirit of World Food Day (a pity it didn't coincide with CAFOD Family Fast Day on 2 October) and spend a moment or two reflecting on how we share resources with others. We are usually quite good at sharing what we have in the way of facilities, food and drink, time and so on, but whether we always do so in a kindly manner is more debatable. It is possible to "perform an act of charity" in such a way that there is nothing "charitable" about it, especially when we're tired or harrassed or just plain out of sorts. Zeal is sometimes double-edged, and feelings of guilt, like feelings of shame, do not often lead to conversion of heart but rather trap us in negativity.

One area where we acknowledge that we ought to do more concerns those whose plight is largely ignored by the media. We have already commented on the persecution of Christians in various parts of the world. Just yesterday we received an appeal from Faith Without Fear concerning the 50,000 Christians forced from their homes in Orissa, India, last year. There are still 4,000 displaced and persecuted. We continue to hold them in prayer, but can we ask you to go to the Faith Without Fear web site and sign the petition? It is a small thing to do, but as we have been reminded many times during the progress of St Thérèse's relics, life is made up of small but significant acts. Perhaps our photo is worth a second look, too, as we think about the Orissa Christians. Some have predicted that in years to come shortages of food and water will lead to increasing strife among peoples. If we have not begun to learn to live peacefully with one another before then, how shall we celebrate the "kindly fruits of the earth" we are meant to share? Scroll down to comment.

• To fight against Satan.

• To rescue the souls of the faithful from the power of the enemy, especially at the hour of death.
• To be the champion of God's people, the Jews in the Old Law, the Christians in the New Testament; therefore he was the patron of the Church, and of the orders of knights during the Middle Ages.
• To call away from earth and bring men's souls to judgment ("signifer S. Michael repraesentet eas in lucam sanctam", Offert. Miss Defunct. "Constituit eum principem super animas suscipiendas", Antiph. off. Cf. The Shepherd of Hermas, Book III, Similitude 8, Chapter 3).

Any Victorian house without a damp course is likely to have fungal problems, but the collapse of the doors on the kitchen units did not enhance the general appearance of the room. (And no, we had not been swinging from them.) We called in Chris Castle to help us with the eradication of the mould and putting a damp sealant on the walls. Initially, everything looked worse than ever. The dingy green bits looked quite striking against the dingy "white" bits!

We are especially pleased that the gap round the window has at last been sealed and hope it will make the kitchen warmer in winter. Our grateful thanks to those whose generosity made it possible for us to undertake this, and to Chris who remained resolutely cheerful throughout ("mould can't hurt you" was his mantra).

There are a few finishing-off jobs to do, but essentially the kitchen is DONE (for now). It is no accident that this week's podcast also takes an "active" approach to Christian living. (The commenting option will be restored as soon as possible. If you have difficulty reading this post, please let us know.)