Grassroots Liturgist

If we stop to think about it, there is a wonderful, organic flow to the celebration of Holy Mass that is in harmony with the needs of our fallen human nature. We gather in song, a sign and celebration of our unity as members of the Church.   We then acknowledge to ourselves, to each other and to God, our failings and our need of him.   Then, liberated by his loving mercy, we may truly and joyously sing his praise in the Gloria.   Having done so, we are more able to open our ears, our minds and our hearts to listen to and absorb, to assimilate his life-giving Word to us; that his Word may written on our hearts, and not remain mere external instruction.   And, fed and nourished by his Word, we can confidently state our shared faith in the words of the Creed. Then, having expressed our baptismal faith, we exercise our baptismal priesthood – yes, all the baptised share in Christ’s priestly ministry – by offering up to God our intentions and petitions for the Church a...

Do you ever mentally switch off during the Homily? Perhaps my favourite Resurrection appearance is when two of Jesus’ disciples were walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. (Luke 24:13-35)   They were both deeply disconsolate and confused: they had followed Jesus, seen the power of God in his words and deeds, and had hoped that he was the one who would redeem Israel.   But then, they witnessed his crucifixion and death – all their hopes and dreams were dashed and the very foundation of their understanding of the world was taken from under their feet.   To make matters worse, Jesus’ body was now missing from the tomb and there were rumours that was alive. Then Jesus walked with them, though they didn’t recognise him.   As they walked, he went through the Old Testament, explaining to them all that was relevant to him as the promised Messiah.   He clearly had their full attention, because later they commented, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked wi...

We have already reflected on silence, and how important it can be for our spiritual life. But in our everyday life, when we are with other people, silence can be a comforting or a challenging experience.  At its worse, it can be awkward to the point of excruciatingly painful. At its best, it can be powerfully intimate, drawing us closer together – think of a well-observed minute’s silence for someone who has died.  After we have sung the Glory to God, we come to another of the small silences that we have previously mentioned; the priest says, “Let us pray,” and there follows a short period of silence before the Celebrant prays the Collect. What do you do during this silence? Are you simply waiting for the priest to pray the Collect?  The Collect is the opening prayer in the celebration of Holy Mass, it gathers together our silent prayers and is spoken on our behalf. But our own prayer actually starts during that silence. The General Instruction tells us that the silence f...

Have you noticed how we live in a world where there is so much stimulation of our senses – especially sound – that we barely even notice it? Until it’s not there.   Then, when things are suddenly quiet, we can feel…vulnerable, empty, alone.   We may quickly try to fill the void, by switching on the TV, radio or some music.   We may make a phone call, or go to our never ending ‘to do’ list.   Something, anything, to break the solitude. And yet Our Lord Jesus actively sought that solitude.   After his baptism, he went to the desert for 40 days.   After a long, busy day teaching the crowds and healing the sick, he would take himself to a lonely place.   Why?   Because in that silence and solitude, he could commune with God; be at one with the Father. In our busy lives, we need to be unafraid to actively seek out that quiet solitude so that we, too, can sense that still, small voice of calm – the presence of God; the God who comforts us and ...

I belatedly got into Game of Thrones, having initially dismissed it as a Lord of the Rings wannabe - I really must learn to be more open-minded. One recurring character is The Hound - a massive (though not as massive as his big brother, The Mountain), brutal, vulgar warrior whose casual disdain for other people is as blatant as the obscenities that spew from his mouth.  His story arc, however, seems to be taking him through something of a spiritual awakening.  At the beginning of series 7, he and a small group come across a deserted cottage and inside are the remains of a father and daughter who had killed themselves rather than starve to death in the fast-approaching winter.  What made it all the more poignant for The Hound is that he had, in an earlier programme, visited his own brand of cruelty on their already wretched lives.  And now he felt the nagging discomfort of guilt.  So much so that, in the middle of the night, he got up to bury their remains. A...