Showing posts with label Blessed Sacrament. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blessed Sacrament. Show all posts

Friday, 3 June 2011

Whatever happened to priestly OCD?

Now I blame Vatican II for many things but it would be a little OTT to hang this one on the poor old Council. I am talking about an obsessive compulsive disorder that was once common among priests - incessant hand washing. You hardly ever hear of it these days but I knew several priests and even one Auxiliary Bishop who suffered with this and, seemingly, never found a way of ceasing the hideous practice which produced countless painful side effects such as psoriasis, eczema and dermatitis.

One does not need to be a psychoanalyst to comprehend the reasons why clerics often suffered from this, although, I guess that, today, some pretty nasty reasons might be levelled in the wake of the child abuse scandals. The reason then (and it was well accepted in Catholic circles) was that an imbalanced view of worthiness developed and was linked, of course, to the physical handling of the Body and Blood of Christ. The priest did not feel 'clean' enough, on a daily basis, to take the Body of Christ between thumb and forefinger and then to proceed to distribute the Eucharist to the mouths of the kneeling faithful.
It is a very comprehensible disorder and a very disruptive one for the priest because the handwashing exercise would manifest itself every few minutes and, very often, the hands that would hold the Sacred Host the next day at Mass, would be red raw and bleeding by the end of the day.

There was no help available, of course, I am sure that the view of the Canon observing his curate's fetish type habit would be to say: "Pull yourself together and cut it out at once Father!" Not very helpful but, there were quite a few bad things about the days before Vat II. In some instances, those who committed suicide were not allowed to be buried in consecrated ground - very hard and now, happily, a thing of the past.
When Pilate washed his hands it was
for a very different reason!

So why is it apparently absent today? I believe that we are more relaxed in respect of the Blessed Sacrament today and that this easy going attitude has rubbed off on the priest (after all, most priests will have a coven bevy of Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion to aid him in the time consuming and laborious task of distributing Holy Communion to all those hordes who await with hands outstretched. No OCD amongst that lot, their hands were probably peeling spuds or throwing darts down the local the night before......ahem.

Of course, do not misunderstand me, it is a good thing that priests do not suffer with this complaint so much these days; it is just an interesting reflection on how time changes observance.

I have a book written by a Herefordshire Catholic woman in the early 19th century and, in those days they would begin preparation for the Sacrament of Confession a full three days before the priest was due to call. Each day would be a blend of prayer, silence, meditation and examination of conscience.....but no handwashing!

Tuesday, 10 May 2011

Catholic London




A Benedictine nun prays before the Blessed Sacrament at Tyburn Convent, Marble Arch, London. Thank God that we still have women religious of this stature and please pray for more vocations.

Tyburn Tree by Francis Thompson


RAIN, rain on Tyburn tree,
Red rain a-falling;
Dew, dew on Tyburn tree,
Red dew on Tyburn tree,
And the swart bird a-calling.
Thence it roots so fast and free,
Yet it is a gaunt tree,
Black as be
The swart birds alone that seek,
With red-bedabbled breast and beak,
Its lank black shadow falling.

The shadow lies on England now
Of the deathly-fruited bough,
Cold and black with malison
Lies between the land and sun;
Putting out the sun, the bough
Shades England now!

The troubled heavens do wan with care,
And burthened with the earth’s despair
Shiver a-cold ; the starved heaven
Has want with wanting man bereaven.
Blest fruit of the unblest bough!
Aid the land that smote you, now!
Which feels the sentence and the curse
Ye died if so ye might reverse.
When God was stolen from out man’s mouth,
Stolen was the bread; then hunger and drouth
Went to and fro ; began the wail,
Struck root the poor-house and the jail.
Ere cut the dykes, let through that flood,
Ye writ the protest with your blood ;
Against this night wherein our breath
Withers, the toiled heart perisheth,
Entered the caveat of your death.
Christ, in the form of His true Bride,
Again hung pierced and crucified,
And groaned, “I thirst!” Not still ye stood,—
Ye had your hearts, ye had your blood ;
And pouring out the eager cup,
“The wine is weak, yet, Lord Christ, sup !
“Ah, blest ! who bathed the parched Vine
With richer than His Cana-wine,
And heard, your most sharp supper past,
“Ye kept the best wine to the last !”

Ah, happy who
That sequestered secret knew,
How sweeter than bee-haunted dells
The blosmy blood of martyrs smells!
Who did upon the scaffold’s bed,
The ceremonial steel between you, wed
With God’s grave proxy, high and reverend Death ;
Or felt about your neck, sweetly,
(While the dull horde
Saw but the unrelenting cord)
The Bridegroom’s arm, and that long kiss
That kissed away your breath, and claimed you His.
You did, with thrift of holy gain,
Unvenoming the sting of pain,
Hive its sharp heather-honey. Ye
Had sentience of the mystery
To make Abaddon’s hooked wings
Buoy you up to starry things ;
Pain of heart, and pain of sense,
Pain the scourge, ye taught to cleanse ;
Pain the loss became possessing ;
Pain the curse was pain the blessing.
Chains, rack, hunger, solitude these,
Which did your soul from earth release,
Left it free to rush upon
And merge in its compulsive sun.
Desolated, bruised, forsaken,
Nothing taking, all things taken,
Lacerated and tormented,
The stifled soul, in naught contented,
On all hands straitened, cribbed, denied,
Can but fetch breath o’ the Godward side.
Oh to me, give but to me
That flower of felicity,
Which on your topmost spirit ware
The difficult and snowy air
Of high refusal ! and the heat
Of central love which fed with, sweet
And holy fire i’ the frozen sod
Roots that had ta’en hold on God.

Unwithering youth in you renewed
Those rosy waters of your blood,—
The true Fons Juventutis—ye
Pass with conquest that Red Sea,
And stretch out your victorious hand
Over the Fair and Holy Land;
Compasses about
With a ninefold-battled shout,
Trumpet, and wind and clang of wings,
And a thousand fiery things,
And Heaven’s triumphing spears: while far
Beneath go down the Egyptian war—
A loosed hillside—with brazen jar
Underneath your dreadful blood,
Into steep night. Celestial feud
Not long forbears the Tudor’s brood,
Rule, unsoldered from his line,
See unto the Scot decline ;
And the kin Scots’ weird shall be
Axe, exile and infamy ;
Till the German fill the room
Of him who gave the bloody doom.
Oh by the Church’s pondering art
Late set and named upon the chart
Of her divine astronomy,
Though your influence from on high
Long ye shed unnoted! Bright
New cluster in our Northern night!
Cleanse from its pain and undelight
An impotent and tarnished hymn,
Whose marish exhalations dim

Please note: This poem was also posted recently by The Sensible Bond



Friday, 6 May 2011

Can a priest say: "I don't do Benediction?"

I know, of course, that many priests say: "I can't do a Latin Mass" which always strikes me as rather feeble; like a tennis player stating that he can't do drop shots or a golfer stating that he only plays on a nine hole course.


"I told you - I don't do drop shots"
But Benediction! Isn't that one of the most perfect ways in which we can adore our God? Why is it not made available more freely? Is it because there is an element of Latin to it? Is it a tad too triumphalist?.....too devote perhaps? or, is it that it recognises transubstantiation in a way that troubles some priests. I hope that I am wrong but it is puzzling that this most beautiful of services is rarely found.
A quick survey of Menevia Diocese shows that, out of 37* or so parish churches, only 7 offer Benediction (and then, in some instances it's only once a month). Pretty shocking by any standard.
*Based on parish website information.
Quite a few do feature Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament but for some obscure reason, that seems to take place at 9.30am on Wednesday mornings. I bet there's a full  house for that!

Procession and Benediction
- is it a bit too holy?
Benediction offers such great opportunities to involve the whole parish.
In May there's potential for the Processions in honour of Our Lady, where the Blessed Sacrament is taken on a tour of the surrounding streets preceeded by young girls with baskets of petals to strew in the path of Our Lord. What imagery it conjures up and what reverence and belief it instils.
All of the parish groups play a part, the KSC, SVP, Legion of Mary and so on; it offers them a chance to recruit new members also.
And then there is Corpus Christi - a chance to take Our Lord even further afield (if anyone has the courage these days).
Of course, the prime purpose is the adoration and worship of Almighty God but Benediction also has so many graces and benefits for those who attend.

I am sure it must appear as if this blog is all about complaints, and that is largely true. I wish it were not so, but the laity in England and Wales are really being given short shrift when it comes to receiving the richness and fullness of our Faith.
Of course, when a priest or Bishop says that there is no demand for it you know what to do don't you?