Callum, our new organ scholar, started this Sunday too. He has been a member of our volunteer choir for a while, but we will be hearing even more of his organ music over the next year. #oxfordoratory

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“That loving tender providence that never deserts those who trust in him”

St Luigi’s life and work were always guided by divine providence. Though as can be the case in our own lives — and even more in the lives of the Saints — this took many turns and led him to heaven by a narrow and rocky path.

From early childhood Luigi was filled with the Oratorian spirit. His half-brother Carlo was a member of the Udine Oratory for four years, until its suppression by Napoleonic forces in 1810. When Luigi was ordained in 1827, at the age of 23, he celebrated his first Mass at the former Oratory Church, and then devoted himself to serving the poor after St Philip’s example. Then in 1846, the Udine Oratory was re-established with Father Carlo as the Provost. Luigi joined the Oratory that same year, and would consider himself an Oratorian to the end of his life. He exhibited the Philippine spirit with such perfection that, after the death of Father Carlo in 1856, he was elected Provost himself. Providence, however, had not finished with him yet, and the Udine Oratory was suppressed once again, eleven years later, sharing the fate of so many congregations caught in the anti-clericalism of unified Italy. This obstacle could not stop St Luigi. He continued to imitate St Philip and, when he died, the words Priest of the Oratory were written on his headstone. Such was his faithfulness and dedication in living out our charism, despite such serious obstacles, that he is now celebrated as a saint of the Oratory, and we keep his feast this Saturday.

Luigi’s greatest work was with the poor, which relied on providence in equal measure. Feeding and schooling orphans at a time of war and famine was no easier than living out the Oratorian vocation amidst militant anti-clericalism. In times of extreme want, he would gather his orphans in the chapel and knock on the tabernacle door, trusting that God, knowing their need, would provide for them. He named the congregation he founded The Sisters of Providence, and despite the hard times, Luigi opened twelve houses before he died. They fared better in the face of anti-clericalism than the Oratory and continued their work past Luigi’s death, helping to lead scores of orphans to a better life. In some of his last words written to the sisters, Luigi encouraged them saying: “After my death, your congregation will have many troubles, but afterwards it will have a new life.”This was how he saw providence working in his life, leading him through hardship to new life in heaven, and that is how he believed it would keep working in the life of their congregation.

Our lives may also take unexpected turns, and we can’t always see how we will accomplish the tasks God has destined for us (even if they seem much simpler than saving orphans or founding a new religious order). In all of these trials, we must follow St Luigi’s example and place ourselves at the mercy of “that loving tender providence that never deserts those who trust in him”. Like St Luigi, we will gain strength in our own struggles if we always keep in mind that we live for Christ and remember the words he addressed to the Sisters of Providence: “The weariness, persevering effort, constant work and the tiresome attention should not cause you discouragement, because you know you are doing all this for Jesus.”

Congratulations to Br Thomas, clothed as a novice in the habit of St Philip today!
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The Conversion of England

Each Sunday at Benediction, just before the Salve Regina, the Fathers and Brothers process to the Lady Chapel and pray Cardinal Wiseman’s prayer to Our Lady for England. We pray that Our Mother might intercede for England, her Dowry, and for the all souls in this land, that every single one should be “united to the Chief Shepherd, the vicar of her Son”. Other prayers appointed for Benediction each month recall how this land was once an island of saints and remind us of the great heritage of sanctity left to us by our forebears in this country who “delivered to us inviolate the faith of the Holy Roman Church”. The feasts and memory of our glorious martyrs continue to encourage us to work and to pray for the return of England to the Catholic Faith. All these devotions arise not from misplaced nationalism, but of real patriotism and charity — we love this country and are commanded to love everyone in it, and so must desire that every single soul is able to glory in the Truth and to know, love, and serve, Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Heaven has seen fit to encourage us to pray for the conversion of England through the lives and examples of so many saints — often those who had never even set foot on the shores of this land. Our own beloved Father, Saint Philip, would greet the seminarians of the English College as they set out to return to the English mission, facing the chance of martyrdom and always of great hardship, with the phrase Salvete flores martyrum — “Hail, flowers of the martyrs” — and no doubt prayed for their success in their apostolic labours. Our Blessed Juvenal Ancina once met a very poorly dressed English priest at Naples who had fled from the Elizabethan persecutions and was so moved by charity that he gave his own cassock to the priest who cried in gratitude “Father Juvenal is a saint; he has stripped himself to save me”. The love of our Cardinal, St John Henry Newman, for his country and his desire that all should enter into the one fold of the Redeemer is a love he bequeathed to all the English Oratory and which encourages us in our work to this day.

The Passionist Congregation seems especially to have been chosen by God to work for England’s conversion. St Paul of the Cross was inspired to pray for our conversion by a series of mystical events and towards the end of his life was consoled during Mass by a vision of his religious working in this country. Perhaps then he saw Blessed Dominic Barberi whom heaven also inspired to pray for England and then to work here tirelessly until his death — how we treasure the scene of a rain-soaked Blessed Dominic drying himself by the fire of the College at Littlemore when Newman approached him and asked to be received into the Catholic Church. Another Passionist, Fr Ignatius Spencer, spent his Catholic life travelling the length and breadth of this country and of Europe soliciting prayers for the conversion of England and until the last century in every Passionist house throughout the world three Hail Marys were prayed each day after Compline for the conversion of England.

In the life of little Saint Dominic Savio we also see heaven’s interest in England’s conversion. His director, St John Bosco tells how St Dominic related to him that “one morning, during my thanksgiving after Communion, I had a repeated distraction, which was strange for me. I thought I saw a great stretch of country enveloped in a thick mist and it was filled with a multitude of people. They were moving about, but like men who, having missed their way, are not sure of their footing. Someone nearby me said: ‘This is England.’ I was going to ask some questions about it when I saw his Holiness Pius IX as I had seen him represented in pictures. He was majestically clad, and was carrying a shining torch with which he approached the multitude as if to enlighten their darkness. As he drew near, the light of the torch seemed to disperse the mist, and the people were left in broad daylight. ‘This torch,’ said my informant, “is the Catholic religion which is to illuminate England.’”

At La Salette in 1846 Our Lady stated that “A great country, now Protestant, in the north of Europe, will be converted; by the support of this country all the other nations of the world will be converted.” This has generally been taken to refer to England and indeed it was his devotion to La Salette that inspired the Curé d’Ars, St Jean Marie Vianney, to urge others to pray for England’s conversion. The holy Curé once received Archbishop William Ullathorne of Birmingham who urged him to pray for English Catholics amidst their sufferings. Ullathorne relates how then “Suddenly he interrupted me by opening those eyes — cast into shadow by their depth, when listening or reflecting — and streaming their full light upon me in a manner I can never forget, he said, in a voice as firm and full of confidence as though he were making an act of faith… ‘I believe that the Church in England will recover her ancient splendour.’ I am sure he firmly believes this, from whatever source he has derived the impression.”

The above are but a few examples that inspire us and encourage us to love our neighbours by praying and working for the salvation of their souls. In the Oratory we are reminded by St Philip that “the true servant of God acknowledges no other country but heaven” and that is why we pray and work for the conversion of England, one heart, one soul, at a time — so that we all may one day meet merrily there.

Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (10)

In giving alms to the poor we must act as good ministers of the Providence of God. (18 September)

God’s providence in our life is best understood as running deep. Every good gift we have comes from him and he provides for us in all sorts of ways. In many of them we cooperate with his gifts to bring about more, becoming stewards and co-creators with God of his ongoing creation. At its deepest, his providence is felt in our very being. There is no heartbeat, no blink of our eye, that God does not love into being, so intent is he on providing for us.

Hospitality and giving to those who have less than us have always been essential expressions of Christian love. The scriptures are full of references to such acts, from entertaining angels when we are unaware to the parable of the Good Samaritan binding up the wounds of one who should be his adversary. Giving alms to the poor, as St Philip puts it, means that we are not just beneficiaries of God’s providence to us, but are, in fact, participants in it. We become co-workers with providence when we give to those who are in need.

This activity was one of St Philip’s first tools when he sought to help his young friends along the path to conversion. As good and laudable as saying our prayers and thinking on the things of God are in themselves, they do not amount to very much in real terms (as St James reminded us last Sunday) if they do not translate into action. Faith must inspire works, and so St Philip’s first approach to a new friend began with the words, “When shall we begin to do good?” When shall we begin to do good, not just consider its merits or think about how nice it is that other people do that sort of thing. The young nobles St Philip recruited into the early Oratory really were the rich at the service of the poor. But then, are we not all rich who experience God’s love, who are able to serve others? In stretching out the hand of welcome and service, of giving to those who are poor we all become rich in the currency that really matters, the currency of heaven.

In 1558 St Philip founded a hostel for pilgrims and convalescents who found themselves on hard times or with no one to care for them. He also founded a confraternity to staff and fund this hostel that scooped up the wretched and the forgotten and gave them a home and friendship. That confraternity (which still exists in Rome) is dedicated to the Blessed Trinity and so by their simple acts of kindness to the homeless and the poor they express something sublime — the very love that is at the heart of God, the communion of the Trinity.

Although the world would put the donor in a position of power over the one who receives the gift, in the logic of God’s Kingdom it is otherwise. In fact an equality is created. By giving to others in acts of generosity or service or simple human kindness we are sharing what we have already received from God and are sharing in the building of his kingdom by passing it on. We are restoring the dignity to the poor that is theirs by virtue of being God’s children.

So since we cannot avoid being the beneficiaries of the providence of God, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we refused to avoid being good ministers and stewards of that providence by serving those in need just as part and parcel of everyday life. Since we are all pilgrims on the road to heaven wouldn’t it be delightful if we made it our special care to share our friendship with our fellow pilgrims who have slipped behind a little. If we took that as seriously as saying our prayers, God could do much through us indeed.

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.

Some of our sacristy treasures on display for the Open Doors weekend. Sadly the 400 year old vestment from the Roman Oratory is too fragile for us to wear on a regular basis…

#oxfordoratory

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Nearly 2000 people passed through the doors of our church this weekend — our usual Mass attendance of about 1000, plus around 750 visitors as part of the Oxford Open Doors weekend.

A steady stream of visitors received a warm welcome from the Fathers and our volunteers, and enjoyed the special exhibitions in the newly-restored Relic Chapel and St Philip’s Chapel.

One common theme was the number of people who said they’ve been walking past for years without realising our church was there. We reminded all our visitors that they don’t have to wait until Open Doors next year to come back — our doors are always open!

#oxfordoratory

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First Mass celebrated in the Relic Chapel after the repairs were complete. The work by Cliveden Conservation makes us very excited about what they will be able to do with the decoration of our sanctuary…

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The Relic Chapel ceiling received the finishing touches this week. You wouldn’t believe there was a hole in the ceiling just a few weeks ago. The decoration is as good as new (or should that be old?) after it was damaged by a leak.

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Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (9)

Today’s maxim from St Philip probably requires a bit of explanation for most modern readers, since it speaks of a world that, in many ways, no longer exists.

The discipline and other like things ought not to be practised without the leave of our confessor; he who does it of his own mind, will either hurt his constitution or become proud, fancying to himself that he has done some great thing. (11 September)

The ‘discipline’ refers not to the practice of self-control but the knotted cords made popular in the Middle Ages that were used for scourging one’s own back. (Images of desperate penitents whipping themselves often illustrate accounts of the Black Death.) By St Philip’s time, this had become something that was widely accepted as the norm for truly devout people, especially when combined with rather extreme fasts. Fortunately for us, such practices have largely fallen out of fashion again in recent centuries — though the temptation to take on extreme penances can still arise in other forms.

St Philip understood that this kind of outward religious practice risks making us pharisees, performing great works of piety just for show, and neglecting the far more important task of mortifying the intellect. Very often, people want to take on extreme fasts that make them unable to fulfil their ordinary duties, when in fact it would be more helpful to them to spend more time in prayer, to give alms, or simply to try to be more patient with their friends, families and colleagues.

To mortify one passion, no matter how small, is a greater help in the spiritual life than many abstinences, fasts, and disciplines. (31 January)

Common sense and St Philip’s straightforward understanding of human nature underlie his advice. He knew that we are not always the best judges of what is good for us, and the more important virtue of humility can save us from problems of our own creation. Bodily penances can do us real lasting physical harm — so they should be treated with extreme caution.

It is generally better to give the body rather too much food than rather too little; for the too much can be easily subtracted, but when a man has injured his constitution by the too little, it is not so easy to get right again. (26 June)

The devil has a crafty custom of sometimes urging spiritual persons to penances and mortifications, in order that by going to indiscreet lengths in this way, they may so weaken themselves as to be unable to attend to good works of greater importance; or be so intimidated by the sickliness they have brought upon themselves as to abandon their customary devotions, and at last turn their backs on the service of God. (27 June)

St Francis de Sales illustrates this teaching of St Philip with the example of Balaam, the pagan prophet summoned to curse Israel by their enemies (Numbers 22). While riding to perform his curse, Balaam’s donkey stopped three times in an attempt to save its rider’s life. But Balaam beat the donkey each time. Finally, God caused the donkey to speak to Balaam and ask, “What have I done to you, that you have struck me these three times?” (Num. 22:28) Balaam punished the innocent donkey for his own faults; we risk punishing the body unfairly in the same way.

It was Balaam who did wrong, but he beat the poor ass, who was not to blame. It is often so with us. A woman’s husband or child is ill, and forthwith she has recourse to fasting, the discipline, and hair shirt, even as David did on a like occasion. But, dear friend, you are smiting the ass! you afflict your body, which can do nothing when God stands before you with his sword unsheathed. Rather correct your heart… Or, again, a man falls often into fleshly sins, and the voice of conscience stands before him in the way, rousing him to a holy fear. Then recollecting himself, he begins to abuse his flesh for betraying him, he deals out strict fasts, severe discipline, and the like, to it, and meanwhile the poor flesh might cry out like Balaam’s ass, “Why smitest thou me? It is you yourself, O my soul, that are guilty. Wherefore do you force me into evil, using my eyes, and hands, and lips for unholy purposes, and tormenting me with evil imaginations? Entertain only good thoughts, and I shall feel no unholy impulses; frequent none save pious people, and I shall not be kindled with guilty fire. You cast me yourself into the flames, and bid me not to burn! you fill my eyes with smoke, and wonder that they are inflamed!”

Introduction to the Devout Life III.23

Bodily penances are not always wrong — Our Lord told us that we will have to fast at times, and it has always been the custom of the Church to do so. But bodily penances can only do so much, and are certainly no shortcut to holiness. The quickest path to sanctity is to face the challenges we are presented with, rather than creating our own, and overcome them for the love of God. 

Interested in becoming Catholic?

Our weekly classes exploring the Catholic faith begin in October. We began running this series of classes last year, and they’ve been hugely popular. We already have a good number of people signed up for our next set — come and join them! You don’t need to have made any firm decisions before coming to classes. Speak to any of the Fathers after Sunday Mass or learn more here: tinyurl.com/oratory4924

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September Music

Sunday 1 September Solemn Mass 11:00
22nd Sunday of the Year
Missa de la Batalla escoutez Guerrero
Domine in auxilium meum Scarlatti
O nomen Jesu Ferrabosco
Prelude in Eb Major BWV552 Bach

Sunday 8 September Solemn Mass 11:00
23rd Sunday of the Year
Missa Quasi cedrus Esquivel
Quasi cedrus exaltata sum Lassus
Salve Regina Esquivel
Paean Howells

Sunday 15 September Solemn Mass 11:00
24th Sunday of the Year
Missa Inter vestibulum Guerrero
Sanctificavit Moyses Palestrina
Salve Regina Poulenc
Präludium in C BuxWV 137 Buxtehude

Sunday 22 September Solemn Mass 11:00
25th Sunday of the Year
Missa ad fugam Palestrina
Quam pulchri sunt Victoria
Nisi Dominus Carissimi
Allegro vivace from Symphonie V Widor

Sunday 29 September Solemn Mass 11:00
26th Sunday of the Year
Kyrie ‘Le Roy’ Taverner
Western Wind Mass Sheppard
Ardens est cor meum Dering
O sacrum convivium Sweelinck
Fantasia in G minor BWV 542i Bach

Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (8)

One of St Philip’s early biographers, Fr Bacci, tells of a young man who came to Fr Philip for help. His was a difficult case:

He could not by any means be persuaded to forgive an injury which he had received. The Saint did all he could to induce him, but his heart seemed only to get harder than ever. One day, seeing that no other means were of any avail, he took a crucifix, and said to him very briskly, “Look at this, and think how much Blood our Lord has shed for the love of you; and he not only pardoned his enemies, but prayed the Eternal Father to pardon them also. Do you not see, my poor child, that every day when you say the Our Father, instead of asking pardon for your sins, you are calling down vengeance upon yourself?” When he had said this, he ordered him to kneel down, and repeat after him a prayer to the crucifix, in which the Saint by exaggerating the hardness and obstinacy of his heart, showed clearly to him what a grievous sin he was committing. The youth obeyed and knelt down, but trying to repeat the prayer, he could not pronounce a word, but began trembling all over. He remained a long time in this state, and at last getting up, he said, “Here I am, Father, ready to obey you; I pardon every injury I have ever received; your Reverence has only to order me to make what satisfaction you please for my sin, and I will do it directly,” which promise he faithfully fulfilled.

While we sing of Philip as “the Saint of gentleness and kindness”, we should not forget that, when occasion demanded it, he could be quite fierce, especially when the good of souls was at stake. Like Our Lord himself, he would speak of the reality of hell and the equally real danger of our ending up there, should we fail to shape our lives by the precepts of the Gospel and keep the commandments of Christ. All Philip’s ministry was directed to the one end of drawing souls to Christ the Saviour and leading them to a bright eternity, life in God, or heaven. If we fail to let ourselves be transformed by the grace of God, we cannot grow in holiness. So, the young man who found it impossible to forgive was jeopardising his eternity by refusing to follow the example of the one he called Lord, who had prayed for the forgiveness of his murderers as he hung on the cross. St Philip knew this and needed to communicate this truth to the youth, managing to do so in that somewhat dramatic manner.

His warning is clear:

He who continues in anger, strife, and a bitter spirit, has a taste of the air of hell. (6 August)

On a lighter note, Fr Bacci records the story of Antonio Fantini, one of Philip’s penitents:

...who on one occasion was troubled by a gentleman’s servant who used to pass under the window and behave in a manner very displeasing to Antonio, who warned him to leave off, or he should repent of it. The servant, however, continuing to act as before, Antonio in a fit of anger inwardly resolved to assassinate him. He remained in this intention three days, when a feast came on which he had always gone to confession and communion without fail. He did violence to himself, therefore, and went to the holy father, and kneeling down, he told him all the behaviour of the servant and his own resolution to murder him. When the Saint heard it all, he merely put his hand on Antonio’s head, and said laughingly to him, “Go away; God be with you; this is nothing;” and at the very instant, Antonio, who had come distracted with trouble, felt himself all at once filled with joy and light-heartedness, and the temptation wholly gone. Nay, when he met the servant, he was not conscious of the slightest movement of anger towards him; and what is even more remarkable, the servant never passed in front of his house again.

Of course, there are some offences that are hard to forgive, wounds that cut deep and will take time to heal, requiring a good deal of prayer for the will to forgive, even to want to begin to forgive. Other things, as St Philip observed, are not perhaps so bad as we might imagine, and we need the grace to see that and hear him say to us: “God be with you; this is nothing.”

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.

Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (7)

An important element of the Exercises of the Oratory — the set of prayers and devotions St Philip devised for his followers — was the reading of the lives of the saints, or spiritual books written by saints. One of the sermons that followed would be based on what was read, or at least, was to contain references and quotations from the saints. In fact, as St Philip tells us this week:

It is very useful for those who minister the word of God, or give themselves up to prayer, to read the works of authors whose names begin with S, such as Saint Augustine, Saint Bernard, &c. (28 August)

Fr Manni, an early Oratorian, says that this is not to learn from the saints “how to work miracles, but how to avoid sin, to submit themselves to the divine law, to bear adversity with fortitude, to hold the world in contempt and to yearn for eternal life.”

The saints are our friends in heaven, who, close as they are to Our Lord in glory, can make intercession for us, asking for the graces we need in this life. But they are also examples for us — not only how to live as faithful disciples, but examples of how God works in men and women to make them holy. They are models for us of lives totally open to grace. And as models and examples they encourage us in our own pilgrimages on earth: after all, if Christ could make saints out of an Augustine or a Jerome, then he can make one out of me.

We do not read the lives of the saints or their writings just for information, no matter how interesting. We read these things to grow in our own relationship with the Lord and to become saints ourselves. Another maxim of St Philip’s states:

To get good from reading the Lives of the Saints and other spiritual books, we ought not to read out of curiosity, or skimmingly, but with pauses; and when we feel warmed, we ought not to pass on, but to stop and follow up the spirit which is stirring in us, and when we feel it no longer then to pursue our reading. (4 August)

The Holy Spirit inspired the saints in their deeds, but also in their thoughts and words. There is holy wisdom, therefore, in such writings, that can inspire us and transform us if we ponder them. The slow reading of Scripture, lectio divina, in which we mull over the words, waiting to see what the Holy Spirit wishes us to take from them, can be used when reading spiritual writings too: not as divine revelation, but as an opportunity we give the Spirit to inflame us with the same fire with which he inflamed the saints. Fr Manni recommended the study of the lives and writings of the saints so that “everyone might be able to say, ‘I have now a thought in my heart which was once in the heart of a saint.’”

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.

Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (6)

He who wishes to advance in spirituality, should never slur over his defects negligently without particular examination of conscience, even independent of the time of sacramental confession. (21 August)

At school one of our science masters had had a brief stint as a professional sportsman before taking up teaching. During some international contest he visited what was then Yugoslavia and picked up a bit of communism which made him somewhat cynical towards religion (to put it mildly). Catholics came in for particular ridicule, especially the idea of confession: “Catholics can do what they like and then just go to confession and everything is fine.” That is not an uncommon view of the sacrament — that we can commit whatever sins we like and then just be told it’s alright. We know this to be false, of course, because confession requires not only the confession of sins, but contrition and a firm purpose of amendment — not an “Oh dear, that was awful, but can everything be fine now?” but instead “By my sins I have forfeited the friendship of God, I am sorry, truly I am, and with the help of his grace I really will, really will try, really am resolved, never to do it ever again, so help me God.”

If you have been to confession at the Oratory of late, you might have noticed a stack of booklets in the confessionals. This is a marvellous text full of useful advice for those who go to confession regularly by one Fr Henri-Charles Chéry O.P. They are there, free, for people to take away (another reason to come to confession!) and so to be helped with how to make a good confession. Fr. Chéry points out that we go to the sacrament not to enumerate our sins, but to confess them. We are there to seek the forgiveness of God and the grace of conversion, not simply to rattle off an exhaustive list. On the whole, if our conscience is well formed, we know our sins. We know what those things are which at that moment stand between us and God.

At least we should know. This is why the Church recommends to us that each night before going to bed we should make a good examination of conscience, looking over the day which has passed and seeing if and how and why we have had the misfortune to sin, and then to make an act of contrition, really to be sorry for them and resolve to avoid them, especially on the morrow. It is not always a pleasant thing to look at our soul in the mirror of our conscience. We can excuse ourselves, “Well, I’ve not killed anyone” — it is a good thing that we are not, most of us, serial killers but just not killing people isn’t exactly what God asks of us. “Well, yes I might have gossiped a bit but at least I’m not like Aunt Joan who is always stealing things” but God isn't going to ask us about whatever Aunt Joan has or has not been up to when we stand before him at the end. The real and proper examination of our conscience allows us to see, in fact, where we still need God’s grace to live in us. If we know our sins, and are honest about them before God, then we know what our work is — what we need to try to overcome, where we stand in particular need of God's grace.

Our Christian life can never be reduced to simply not sinning. We are called to be saints, called to be not just ‘un-sinful’, but to be men and women of virtue. So when we examine our conscience we do not come to think just “Oh dear!” much less “Oh well, never mind” but we see rather what virtues we need to work on and then with the help of God’s grace get on with cultivating them.

“The great thing,” Saint Philip used to say, “is to become saints.” And a proper examination of conscience is indispensable for becoming one.

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.

Congratulations to Daniel who was baptised last week. #oxfordoratory

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Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (5)

Where we come from can sometimes be a good indication of what we are like: our manners, our way of viewing the world, our habits, even our way of speaking. As my mother might sometimes say of my father, “You can take the man out of the Whiterock, but you can’t take the Whiterock out of the man!” But it can also be a compliment — “You are a credit to your parents” and so on. It might also be the case that we can be marked, understood, and even judged by the place that we are headed.

For St Philip, although at once the most Florentine of men (or so he is called), he was also to be judged by that fact he was clearly a citizen of heaven. He had heaven daily before his eyes, measured all things by their relation to that heavenly goal and cultivated in his life a longing for heaven that was a kind of homesickness. His last blessing to his sons at his death, Fr Faber imagines, was “One half from earth, one half from heaven…just as his life had been. One half in heaven, one half on earth, of earthly toil and heavenly mirth: a wondrous woven scene!” No surprise, then, that he should have as one of his maxims — and probably often quoted by his spiritual children — “The true servant of God acknowledges no other country but heaven.” (16 August)

That longing for heaven, that homesickness, that desire for a return to a place we have been promised and not yet seen, is a peculiar mark of the Christian. To long for somewhere is to live as if we are already there, to be shaped by our longing for it. It is a kind of refusal to let go of it. And when we think of heaven, well, the refusal to let go of it should fill our lives with the qualities of that place — “earthly toil and heavenly mirth: a wondrous woven scene!” In another hymn, which has a lovely poetic expression of what heaven is like, we are invited to view it as a place which is, “all jubilant with song, and bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng; the Prince is ever with them; the daylight is serene.” We too are invited to be jubilant with song, to be conscious of the merits and our closeness to the saints and to have the Lord, the Prince, ever with us, in the midst of our life. If he is, a measure of that heavenly serenity is ours, a serenity that can handle whatever the world throws at us.

Today we keep a sublime feast of one who is the most serene in the face of the difficulties of the world, our Blessed Lady. Her Assumption, body and soul, into heaven is testament to the totality of her belonging to that place. Just as her life was shaped by her trust in God’s promises, just as it was united to her divine Son, so her life was formed by the place where all this would lead her: heaven.

Life in the world can sometimes make us feel that putting heaven first in our life, or acknowledging no other country but heaven, is asking a lot of us. But when we think about it, why would we want any other country? Acknowledging heaven as our only country brings with it the assurance, joy, comfort and hope that we need in this passing life. It helps us treat others with the dignity and love that is becoming of fellow citizens of that place, and it helps us see that trials are certainly passing and that heaven is eternal and so whatever life throws at us, we can get through it until that day when, with Our Lady, at the feet of her Divine Son, we are reigning too in that happiness that knows no end.

Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (4)

St Philip’s sayings and teachings were originally delivered in Italian, and perhaps a few in Latin, and so when translated into English — by Fr Faber and by others — difference have sometimes crept in. Each translator has to decide how to translate a particular word or phrase. One of this week’s maxims (August 6) has come down to us in two slightly different versions:

There is no time for sleep, for Paradise is not made for sluggards.

and

We have no time to go to sleep here, for Paradise is not made for poltroons.

A “sluggard” is a lazy or slothful person; a “poltroon” is an old-fashioned word for “coward”. Both versions display the simple, practical and effective common-sense of our Saint, and both are perhaps strong medicine for some us who might be looking forward to rest, recreation and laziness over the summer holidays.

St Philip began his ministry among the young men of Rome, who had too much money to need to work for a living, and not enough to keep them occupied. To keep them out of mischief, Philip gathered them for holy recreation, the sacraments, prayer, visiting churches, spiritual conferences, sacred concerts, works of mercy, picnics in the Roman hills. He was even known to run races with them — anything to keep them busy and away from sin, knowing that when we don’t have anything good to do, we often end up doing bad things instead.

Sloth is a dangerous vice that “crushes all the virtues”. We can put in much time and effort developing the virtues but if we neglect to preserve them through laziness then what good has that effort done us? The virtues are like muscles: the more we exercise them the stronger they become. The more we practice kindness, patience, charity, prayer, the more we become kind, patient, charitable and prayerful. Rest and recreation are necessary for our physical and mental health — and therefore our spiritual health — but when we waste precious time sleeping-in, slouched on the sofa or doom-scrolling on our mobile phones, our acquired virtues grow weak and flabby. An early disciple of St Philip’s, Fr Giovanni Matteo Ancina, brother of the more famous Blessed Juvenal Ancina, advised that in order to avoid idleness, “we should read a little, pray a little, and labour a little, that so the hours may pass happily”. 

Often it takes more than just effort to get up and do something good — it takes some courage. The “heroic virtue” to which we are called as potential saints does not only mean martyrdom or giving up all we have or preaching the Gospel to the ends of the earth. It takes real courage to tackle a bad habit or besetting sin we might have. It is not easy to visit or call someone we find a bit difficult, or stop and talk to the beggar on the street. There is bravery in deciding to give more in charity when we don’t have very much to spare. Setting the alarm clock a few minutes earlier and actually getting out of bed when it rings to start the day in prayer might not seem that impressive, but it can be truly heroic on a cold, dark morning.

Not wasting the time we have been given, and having the courage to do good even when it is difficult, these are essential elements of our growth in holiness. We are not saved by our efforts and good works: we are saved through faith in Christ by the free gift of a loving God — but as St James reminds us, our faith is shown by our works.

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.

August Music

Sunday 4 August Solemn Mass 11:00
18th Sunday of the Year
Missa Brevis in D Mozart
Nisi Dominus Carissimi
Ave verum corpus Carissimi

Sunday 11 August Solemn Mass 11:00
19th Sunday of the Year
Missa Simile est regnum caelorum Victoria
Super flumina Babylonis Palestrina
Gratias agimus tibi Bach
Toccata in F BWV540i Bach

Thursday 15 August Solemn Mass 18:00
The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Missa Assumpta est Maria Palestrina
Vidi speciosam Victoria
Salve regina Howells
Fuga sopra il Magnificat BWV 733 Bach

Sunday 18 August Solemn Mass 11:00
20th Sunday of the Year
Missa brevis Gabrielli
Ave virgo sanctissima Guerrero
Salve Regina Lassus

Sunday 25 August Solemn Mass 11:00
21st Sunday of the Year
Mass for four voices Byrd
O quam suavis Byrd
Ave verum corpus Byrd

Maxim-ising Our Spiritual Life (3)

Mortification is not a concept much in favour these days. To some, it is a reminder of the days when bodily austerities were taken to extremes: the taking of the discipline, or very severe fasts. These practices were once the norm, but today, the business of mortification is, if practised at all, somewhat less punishing. But mortification is indeed necessary, for the opposite is self-indulgence.

St Philip, practised the means of mortification, customary in his day, and reminded his disciples:

Without mortification nothing can be done. (30 July)

Furthermore, he would add, “where there is no great mortification there is no great sanctity.” (4 Nov)  All the same, the kind of mortification he sought to encourage was ‘interior’ rather than corporal. He said: “Oh, how I like those little mortifications that are seen by nobody, such as rising a quarter of an hour sooner, rising for a little while in the night to pray!” You may recall the story of Philip’s friend, Alberto, who asked his permission to wear a hair-shirt, which permission the saint denied him, telling him that he could do so only if he wore it over his clothing. This Alberto did, enduring the endless ribbing of his friends and others, who teased him mercilessly as he cheerfully went about Rome, clad in his weird attire. “Look, here comes Berto of the hair-shirt!”

A phrase Philip was fond of repeating to his friends (which he had taken from Thomas Kempis) was Amare nesciri — “to love to be to unknown.” This injunction lies at the heart of his sense of mortification. For him, the important thing was not to punish the body through long fasts and arduous asceticism. Of far greater value was the mortification of the razionale, that proud and self-important reason common to us all. How often would he say to his penitents, “The sanctity of a man lies in the breadth of three fingers,” (5 Nov) and pointedly lay those fingers on his forehead. You can see this gesture illustrated in the mural above the sacristy door in our church.

The peculiar practical jokes, the daily confessions, the severe and thankless workload he imposed on his sons — everything tended to mortify the intellect and cultivate humility, which was the virtue most dear to him. And for St. Philip, humility found its greatest expression in “loving to be unknown.”

Another saying, which comes to us through his disciple Fr Pietro Consolini, is Vita communis, mortificatio maxima (Community life is the greatest mortification). This is why the saint chose not to leave his Oratorians with any mortifications or penances other than those prescribed by the Church. He understood that living with others brings with it its own challenges and opportunities to practice interior mortification, by suffering with patience and goodwill, the difficulties which will inevitably arise in everyday life. In Philip’s view, it was not necessary to add anything more than that.

St Philip would have us love to be unknown and to be humble, because this ultimately draws us closer to Christ, whose own teaching is reflected in that of our saint. We learn not to bite back or bridle at insults, or to seek the highest or most influential positions. We learn not to impose our will, or to insist on having our own way, nor to be too pleased with ourselves when we have done some good. This is humility; this is love. This is the mortification advocated by our Holy Father St Philip and each day, the Lord gives us ample opportunity to live it.

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.