FRIENDS OCCASIONALLY JEST that this blog is determinedly cheerful. I rather hope that that’s largely the case, believing as I do that our all too frequent and depressingly human personal dissatisfactions are probably best reflected upon in private journals, and before God, and preferably in penitential silence. I’ve been heartened by the number of parishioners who, having picked up on an earlier blog piece, have told me “oh! my mother used always to say ‘this too shall pass’ – it’s just about saved my life!” Mine too.
But, just for the record, I’m as utterly dependent on Divine Light shining within and beyond us as is anyone else, every day of my life as a parish priest. I learned very early on in life that Christ’s beloved Church, and every member within it, has plenty of dark nooks and crannies – many a well meaning soul who’s nonetheless far too egotistically concerned about ensuring a seat at the right or left hand of the Father, his or her own “place” in the scheme of things. And that can be heartily depressing to observe – in oneself and in others – over a period of many years.
In a Church comprised of human beings Divine Light is not only our best hope, it’s our only hope. Please God St David’s Day will dawn upon the morrow amidst brighter rays of light – within us and without.