where there is love...

It is two weeks today since the February quake. It seems a lifetime since we have experienced a lifetime of emotion and trauma in these days.

Many people speak of the huge changes in their lives since the quake. Most tragically, some are living without those they have loved most dearly. This is the ultimate loss.

For many, the loss of home and the security of work has been unbearable.

Others of us consider ourselves to be among the more fortunate. While we may not have lost family, friends, homes and livelihood, we have all lost the security of living on stable ground.

Is it possible to live with such insecurity? The answer is clearly yes. People have been living in traumatic environments since forever. Even in our own "civilized times" our sisters and brothers in different parts of the world live in poverty and persecution every day of their short lives. War-zones are densely populated. Yes, it is possible to live with such insecurity.

But we cannot live in these times with the 'fenced-and-locked-gate-quarter-acre-section' mentality.

In our city in these days we have fed and encouraged our neighbours and our enemies. The fences around our properties may not have physically fallen, but the reality is that these polite little boundaries are no longer important. We have realised that a new way of living is necessary.

And this 'new way' blesses us with new priorities. Our eyes have been opened and we have different and broader perspectives. We have seen all too vividly that life on earth is short, and that much of what we had placed our hope in, is revealed as unstable.

But love has flourished anew. And where there is love, there is God.

the covenant rainbow

In these days of suffering we savour every sign of hope. This morning soon after 8am, the Old Testament 'sign of the Covenant' bowed over Our Lady of Victories and the city.

Some days when a rainbow appears we glance briefly and carry on with our busy lives. Today I knew that this was a very direct sign, intended by God for the people of our city.

God is with us. We have nothing to fear.

"I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud: And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh. And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth. And God said unto Noah, This is the token of the covenant, which I have established between me and all flesh that is upon the earth."

Genesis 9:13

Cathedral Photos

Parishioner Peter Fleming has emailed me these photos of our Cathedral.

the rock of safety

It is early Saturday morning and I have just looked at the Sunday readings for the first time. Normally I begin the homily preparation mid-week. But nothing is normal in Christchurch these days.

I began my homily in Darfield and at OLV last Sunday saying that this was one day when everyone would hang on every word of the readings: ‘do not worry about what you are to wear…..’ where you are to live…

The reason that we heard the Gospel last Sunday, is that we were all worried. In moments we were even terrified. And here God was telling us not to worry. How could we not worry? Even our confidence in God’s gift of solid earth had been shaken. In today’s Gospel we hear that the man who builds his house on solid rock is the wise one. And yet even the rock around our city was unstable. Does God not know about earthquakes?

At Masses this weekend we respond to the first reading praying: “Lord, be my rock of safety.” In these days since last month’s earthquake we have seen so many of our usual ‘rocks of safety’ collapse around us. Even the solid symbols of our tradition and our city built in rock on rock have been reduced to rubble. We have seen that nothing is secure. Nothing is stable. Not only are our material securities taken from us, but we know from our personal experience that even the most promising relationship is too often later experienced as less than ideal.

So where can we find security? What is stable?

We turn to God. In every age of human history healthy people have known that God is our only security. God also provides our ultimate security. I was reminded of this in the Liturgy this week: Wednesday’s Office of Readings when one of the most beautiful passages of our Christian tradition was read:

Late have I loved you,

Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you!

Lo, you were within,

but I outside, seeking there for you,

and upon the shapely things you have made

I rushed headlong – I, misshapen.

You were with me, but I was not with you.

They held me back far from you,

those things which would have no being,

were they not in you.

You called, shouted, broke through my deafness;

you flared, blazed, banished my blindness;

you lavished your fragrance, I gasped; and now I pant for you;

I tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst;

you touched me, and I burned for your peace.

St. Augustine, the writer of this prayer of passionate yearning for God, lived over 1500 years ago. Even this fact indicates that the reality the readings lead us to reflect on today, is a timeless reality. Only God can give us what we seek. At best the wonderful experiences of human intimacy and physical security are little more than signs that point us to the ultimate reality of God's presence and God's generous, practical and all-satisfying love.

This reality is the heart of human existence: If we live every breath in relationship with God, we will experience ALL that we seek. The fruit of this divine relationship is human security and human intimacy.

I think we taste this in a remarkable way in these days of tragedy and trauma. We see people caring for one another without counting the cost. Almost everyone I know has opened their home and resources to friends, family, strangers and even enemies in need. This is one of the greatest miracles I have every witnessed.

I see strangers meeting in neighbourhood groups every evening to share food, friendship, bathrooms and bedrooms. I have even heard someone who has returned to their own home missing the company of the neighbours. Now they are back in front of their own plasma screen and they miss the company around the neighbours cook-out where they cried and laughed over sausages and chardonnay into each homeless night.

In these days we have been reminded of what is essential. We have tasted the beauty of this different way of living. This vulnerabilty and openness is more reflective of human need than our usual independence and self-reliance.

This is what Augustine is writing about. We are not created to build our own successful kingdoms. Such projects are exhausting and ultimately futile. Only an intimacy with God breathed in every moment, can satisfy our human need.

The success of our human endeavours is in fact a veneer of stability. Today the ultimate home on the Cashmere hill is uninhabitable. Even our stable and secure Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament is reduced to rubble. The Cathedral is a sign that points us to the reality of God. The Cathedral is in ruins. But God is alive and present.

Lord, help us to know that you are our only "rock of safety."

Parish Council

I was grateful for the confidence and competence of the Parish Council when we met during the week. It has been an extraordinary tough couple of weeks for all the people of our city, region and country as we face such overwhelming loss of life and livelihood.

Today I had a funeral for a woman who, while not a direct victim of the earthquake, died suddenly after being moved from her damaged home. I felt so much for the family who, along with so many others in the city, are experiencing the loss of the one they love in these traumatic days.

But a funeral of a woman of faith was an opportunity for us all to know again that we are in the kind keeping of God. We are never alone. God is with us.

The Parish Council have organised opportunities for all parishioners and friends to be together following all OLV Masses this weekend. Check the website www.olv.co.nz for further details.

Even more than usual I look forward to being with parishioners at Masses in the parish this weekend.

Sleep well - as I pray to.

John

Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament

This morning a Press Release was sent to all parishes about the situation regarding the Cathedral.

The text of the release:

Expert advisors met with Bishop Barry Jones and diocesan personnel today to consider the badly damaged Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament.

An engineer’s report based on an exterior inspection reveals that the dome of the Cathedral is forcing outwards the weight bearing structures and presents a severe hazard to the surrounding area.

Another earthquake like that of 22 February would see the dome topple.

The decision has been made to remove the dome and this process will take some months to complete.

The present state of the building is so dangerous that no one may enter it for any reason.

The removal of the dome can only be done by cranes at a distance from the building.

No decisions will be made about the future of the building until a detailed engineering report is generated. This will occur when access to the building is safely restored, after the dome has been removed.

I found the Press Release very difficult to read. Even more difficult for me was seeing the photos a friend emailed to me.

My eyes filled with tears when I saw the pictures and knew that the dome was to be removed. While it is true that the Cathedral is a building not a person, there is a most real sense in which a Cathedral has a life. We have lived in this place. We have celebrated the sacraments that give us life in this holy place. My great grandparents contributed to the building of this Cathedral. I am struggling to see it struggle.

But the Cathedral is not heart of the Catholic life of our diocese. God is our heart. The Cathedral exists to point us to God. And even if our Cathedral is struggling with an uncertain future, God is alive and present.

I will know this anew when I turn out the light tonight. Once again, when our city is filled with such loss and devastation, I know that God is real and present. Even in our present difficulties and griefs, we have nothing to fear.

two minutes together

This afternoon (Tuesday) parishioners and friends gathered in Our Lady of Victories to pray.

For two minutes at 12.51pm, exactly one week since the devastating quake, the people of our nation stood still.

A lot of different things happen when people are still and silent. We think. We daydream. we wonder and we remember. We hope and we pray.

A 'Holy Hour' before the Blessed Sacrament (God-with-us) is a specifically Catholic response, when we know our need for God. From 12.30pm to 1.30pm today we were before the Blessed Sacrament for this Holy Hour. At 12.51 we were united with people in homes, workplaces, churches and streets in stillness and silence.

Our purpose in gathering together at OLV this afternoon for this hour, was not to share our stories. We have done a lot of that and we wisely will continue to. We were also not together to remember or to think, to plan or to organise. These things are important, but we are here to do something even more important.

We gathered today in the Church, to focus together on God. It was God's story we needed to hear again, not ours. God's story of presence with us and love for us.

When we hear God's story, our own stories have some meaning and purpose, even in their tragedy.

This is possible because the most tragic story in history: GOd came to earth and we killed him, is, by the power of God, through the resurrection of Jesus, the ultimate story of meaning and hope.

So today at OLV we gathered together to focus on the life-giving reality of God-with us.

It is good and necessary to tell what happened and to hear the events and experience of these days from others. But there comes a time when we realise that this is not enough. We need more. God is the more.

We were reminded of this in last Sunday's Gospel:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life,

what you will eat or drink,

or about your body, what you will wear.

Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?

Look at the birds in the sky;

they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns,

yet your heavenly Father feeds them.

Are not you more important than they?

Matthew 6:24-34

It is this more, the reality of God's life, that nourishes us that we might continue to care for those in need in the difficult days ahead.