Stigmata and Vocational Living

Well, things have been bonkers around here - it is the time of year when we have all the major Franciscan festivals - so time for a bit of a blog catchup.


Say the word 'stigmata' to most people and they will have no idea what you are talking about.  Not so the 160 or so Franciscans who turned up to celebrate the stigamata of St Francis at Hilfield on the 17th.


The story begins in 1224, two years before his death.  Francis was observing a forty day fast on Mt La Verna in northern Italy.  He withdrew from his brothers and only his closest companion was allowed to approach him once a day to bring him bread and water.


Francis became so caught up in the mysteries of the Passion that he prayed for one thing only, that he might share in the suffering of Christ so that he could understand the love that God felt for the world from the Cross.


Bonaventure, in his Life of St Francis, describes what happened next. 

He saw a Seraph with six fiery and shining wings descend from the height of heaven.  And when in swift flight the Seraph had reached a spot in the air near the man of God, there appeared between the wings the figure of a man crucified, with his hands and feet extended in the form of a cross and fastened to a cross... When Francis saw this, he was overwhelmed and his heart was flooded with a mixture of joy and sorrow. 

He wondered exceedingly at the sight of so unfathomable a vision... Eventually he understood by a revelation from the Lord that divine providence had shown him this vision so that, as Christ's lover, he might learn in advance that he was to be totally transformed into the likeness of Christ crucified, not by the martydom of his flesh, but by the fire of his love consuming his soul.

As the vision disappeared, it left in his heart a marvellous ardour and imprinted on his body markings that were no less marvellous.  Immediately the marks of nails began to appear in his hands and feet just as he had seen a little before in the figure of the man crucified.... Also his right side, as if pierced with a lance, was marked with a red wound from which his sacred blood often flowed.

Domenico Veneziano's Stigmatisation of St Francis

The feast of the Stigmata is one of the most important for Franciscans, because it embodies the theology that makes Franciscans special - that it is through an utter and joyful outpouring of love for God and for all His creation that we can truly come close to what it means to be Christ-like - not through guilt and making oneself miserable.

We were very lucky to have the Revd Charlie Allen, Director of Ordinands for the Diocese of Salisbury, with us for the mass.  In her sermon, she talked about how St Francis embodied the love of God.  That was why he was marked with the wounds of Christ.  He was one of the few people who have truly loved as God loves us.

Charlie and Br Damian not discussing serious matters

The weather was absolutely perfect for an outside mass.  About 160 Franciscans of all types came and the Hilfield community had pulled out all the stops to welcome them.

 

 You wouldn't guess it's a trellis table would you?

Adam, Br Giles and Br Raymond Christian in full vestments at the distribution

(Giles quite hot under the collar by this point)

And of course, SSF being part of the Church of England, there was a massive quantity of cake afterwards.  We still haven't managed to eat all of the leftovers.

 

 Michael getting into cake distribution

 

 The volunteers being introduced to the gathered throng

(From left: Lyndon, Me, Michael, Frerik and Jon)

The highlight of the day was Revd Charlie's talk in the afternoon on Vocational Living.  Charlie argued well that the Church is too focused on 'bums-on-seats' mentality, when it is actually quite easy to get people into the physical church building.  What we should be asking is where people are on their spiritual journey, and how the church could help them.  So many people are interested in God but so few will ever feel their questions are actually answered to enable them to ask different ones.

She also argued that we should remember that everyone has a vocation, citing the case of a friend who feels a strong vocation to his current role as a headmaster of a school.  If we are called to live in the image of Christ, why do we never think about our life choices in terms of calling unless it is to a Church role?

Much food for thought.  Charlie Allen for Archbishop!!!

 

 

SHORT SUMMARY: Things going bonkers, but in the best possible way, and I am thinking more than I did doing a Law degree.

 

NEXT TIME: How to torture mudbugs.

Up for a ukelele mass, brother?

Well, I think I am officially settled in.  I know how pretty much everything works and where everything is... and have a two hour online food hygiene course to take with the slowest internet connection ever.  Yay!


My room is beginning to take shape finally, and Niffy (the bright pink corduroy Magnifi Cat) has found a home in my pyjama drawer, though I'm about to try and squeeze a huge writing desk into the room, possibly sacrificing my bed (actually found the same design of desk I had at Uni in a garage here - wierd!).

I've spent my time finding a niche for work (and consequently have done pretty much everything thus far) but am tending towards the cows and sheep.  Well, the sheep are evil (angry eyes), but the cows seem to be good listeners and I like talking to things that aren't people.


On Sunday night I managed to get roped into something a little different.  Wanting to have a brief chat with Br Damian, I may have inadvertently signed up to go along to something called an 'alternative eucharist.'  Having not much idea what this might entail and thinking it might be interesting, I went along.


It turned out that 'alternative eucharist' really meant 'ukelele mass' for the feast of the Stigmata of St Francis at a church in Bristol (not at all nearby) via a marvellous afternoon tea at the local Reader's house.  I had had a brief brush with the ukelele at school when a physics teacher thought it would be a good idea to teach about thirty of us the "instrument" so that we could form the chorus of a musical about Albert Einstein.  I have to say, Br Damian's rendition of various Franciscan hymns dressed in habit, surplice, stole and ukelele was similarly surreal, but equally fun.



Damian contemplates the transcendant nature of the ukelele before mass



No idea what's about to hit them

 Monday is a rest day for the community, guests being one of the main priorities Tuesday-Saturday and chapel being the priority on Sunday.  A lot of the community go out on trips to the surrounding towns but I, recovering from the ukelele excitement of Bristol, elected to stay back and have a leisurely morning in pyjamas.


We are all beginning to find things to occupy our free time.  Some are learning new languages, others are writing poetry or learning instruments.  Lyndon is knitting.  No comment whatsoever.

I spent some time on my day off (when I had drunk three cups of coffee and couldn't sit still any more) having a wander around and found the chapel of St Mary of the Angels.  An old coal shed, it was looking rather mournful with about 100 spiders living in the roof and walls and their... ermmm... leavings staining every surface and statue.


Five hours of scrubbing later, the chapel is looking a bit perkier, so I am due some intercessions from Our Lady perhaps, and I am frantically trying to get visitors to actually use it.  Lyndon and I are plotting a minor renovation... starting with an icon, of course.  Any ideas for the best Marian icon are welcome.

The bell has rung for dinner (my new favourite sound) so I must dash.  It is surprising how an afternoon in the garden pulling up weeds can work up an appetite.  It must be all the fresh air... I'm not a fatty.

Some pictures by popular request

Lots of people have asked for some pictures of the friary, so tonight I sacrificed prime position for getting Suzi's Mac Cheese Plus to take some pictures on my phone before dinner. More will follow, but this is a whistlestop tour of the things I managed to get to (barefoot) before the light failed. 

The friary is on the edge of the Dorset ridgeway, so is set in a glorious natural basin, being on the last significant downwards slope before the sea.  It is an official Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty and I can't convey the breathtaking setting in photos, but here goes.



The rear of the friary, with refectory (centre) and orchard and Leo House (left), complete with Fr Hamdy snoozing on the kitchen bench



The fruit garden and Kitchen side of the Friary - treading the muddy path up to the barn barefoot (bad idea)



The view from the barn with chapel (right) resplendant in Br Hugh's solar panels



The courtyard with the chapel (right)



The courtyard with the St Francis bird-bath (my name, not the official one, on the left)



The most regular procession - into the refectory - with the Angelus Bell directly above the door



The chapel - at oblique camera phone angle - with Tau Cross Altar and San Damiano Icon



The crucifixion sculpture in the Narthex of the Chapel (should be a bit familiar to readers from St Benets, Cambridge!).  I love the way that those crucified either side of Christ seem to hang off him, whilst his arms are raised in triumph.  Something a little different.



The Refectory after Dinner



The Avenue.  I live in Douglas House, just off the right hand side of this picture.  The Chickens are on the left.  At the bottom, past John Reynolds' car, is the cemetary, looking out over the downs.





The Sunbathing Cross - not the actual name but I like to sunbathe underneath it

The next post, about the other people volunteering here at Hilfield and our first week together, will be on Sunday.  God bless.

Welcome to the Friary... Here's a rake.

So, I'm here.


First thoughts on waking up on Friday morning in Winchester were, 'Yay, it's today!'  By the time I was on the train, that had morphed into, 'Wow, this is potentially a really significant moment in my life,' which by the time Br John was driving me into the car park had become, 'AAAAAAGH WHAT AM I DOING???'

The front of the friary in its glorious surroundings

That went away pretty quickly as I started to unpack.  Yes, the first thing I did was take down the crucifix on the wall (sorry, God, but that was the only wall big enough to hang my EU flag), but I think that is legitimate when you're living in a friary.  Bare walls are overkill.


In the Church of England one of the most important aspects of the faith is eating.  Opinion is divided as to whether this is at Communion or coffee afterwards, but at Hilfield things are no different.  You quickly realise here that the best way to see God is to talk to people.  When do people talk?  When they are eating.  How often should you eat therefore?  As often as possible.


The Hilfield Marathon is as follows.  Competitors line up for breakfast, round the corner of morning tea into the long but exquisite straight of lunch.  After this quick succession of landmarks there is a two hour straight before afternoon tea, which is shortly followed by dinner.  I arrived for afternoon tea. Verdict: NOM.  One of the ways I defended my decision to come to Hilfield was that I would learn how to make homemade jam.  I admit now that I will never be able to compete.


More free time and evening prayer.  Prayer is quiet at Hilfield,  not quiet in that 'Half of us don't really believe this and the other half don't know what is going on' kinda way, but quiet in that it is so heartfelt that it doesn't need to be shouted from the rooftops.  Prayer is in everything that goes on here, even if you don't realise it.  Chapel is just another part of daily life.

The Chapel Entrance - Will try and take a picture inside when no one is using it (pretty rare in a friary!)

Like eating and prayer, the bells that announce them feature heavily in the life of the Friary.  Although the bell rang to summon the community to morning prayer at 0650 on Saturday morning, it only managed to summon me to my caffetiere.  I retreated back to bed to say the office in my pyjamas.  If St Francis had had pyjamas and a Bodum French Press, I'm sure he would have been happy saying his prayers with them too.


First day was a lot of raking.  It seems we are being hazed.  Well, probably not, but when you rake the same patches of lawn with three different rakes you have to wonder.  Much time for talking to the other volunteers though.  I also learned how to pick apples (apparently, you should never actually pick them and the image of an apple with a leaf sticking out the top is a badly picked apple - childhood image shattered).  On the plus side, it was an excuse to spend most of the day getting to know the other volunteers and admiring the scenery.  Clouds so couldn't see the nearby towns from the top of the hill.


THE SHORT SUMMARY: I'm having a marvellous time already.  Not regretting taking such a crazy decision after all.

NEXT TIME ON WANNABE FRANCISCAN: The crazy people who are volunteering and the wonderful people who put up with us.