The sun shines in Wales

St David has been doing his job as patron of Wales very well. Sun has been shining and Wales have been winning...  Wow, two bits of good news in one weekend!  OK the sun may pull back again in a day or two, and Wales might even come against France in a week or two - but. hey, we all want some good news, don't we?

Fr Andy and I enjoyed watching the match together on Saturday afternoon. It was exciting, a little controversial in parts, but it all adds to the spice.  Although Andy grew up in Hereford, he was born in Wales, Merthyr Tydfil to be exact, and has spent all his priesthood here in Wales too. And I certainly don't have any split loyalties, as I don't have a drop of English blood, as far as I know, except for great-grandfather Kearns. He happened to be born in Bristol because that's where his family went at the time of the Irish famine, before they moved over here after only a year or two.

So, here's to good news - keep it coming

And for those who have never heard the Welsh national anthem, here it is - Principality Stadium - with crowd!  Happy feast day everyone.

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Time for some more music from my past.

By 1970 I was 17 years old and in the sixth form. American duo Simon and Garfunkel had built up a big following over previous years, but they were saving some of their greatest songs for the album they brought out that year "Bridge Over Troubled Water". The title track became one of the top selling songs of all time, and I think that over-used word iconic can truly be used of it. 

On the album itself Art Garfunkel sings most of the song until he's joined by Paul Simon in the last verse. Ten or so years later the pair performed their famous "Concert in Central Park" in New York. It attracted over half a million people, some say many more. They played all their great songs and many were waiting for "Bridge Over Troubled Water". Garfunkel performed it solo with very small backing, and that's the version I have chosen here.

The song is simple really, but captures the need we all have for someone to be there for us, and, hopefully, our resolve to be there for others.  

When you're weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all
I'm on your side
Oh, when times get rough
And friends just can't be found

Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down

 

When you're down and out, when you're on the street
When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you
I'll take your part
Oh, when darkness comes, and pain is all around

Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down

 

Sail on silver girl, sail on by
Your time has come to shine, all your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend, I'm sailing right behind

Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind

Alone?

Having trained in the years after Vatican II, with its emphasis on the community and participation, especially in the Eucharist, I always felt that a priest celebrating Mass on his own was a no-no. What was the 'point', I would say to myself.  Well, the pandemic has had many, many consequences, but one has been that I have now been in situations where it has been helpful to indeed celebrate Mass on my own. I don't mean on my own in the church being joined via webcam by loads of people - I mean literally on my own.

Take today. It was Fr Andy's turn to celebrate the 'public' Mass at 10.30 in the church here at St Brigid's, and it's good sometimes to concelebrate.  But I have also on quite a few occasions celebrated on my own on the dining-table in the presbytery, as I have just done now this evening.  With the world outside silent on a Sunday lockdown evening, the silence seems to fill the room. It's not an empty silence - the needs of the world find their way in, and, more importantly it's a silence that in some mysterious way enables God to be more 'free'. As I make my way through the well-known prayers and the readings, he feels very. very close, around the table with me. And this makes the silence even more potent, so that after the readings or after Holy Communion or at the end, or at all three points, I have to stop to just sit there and be...

I am finding that this experience is filtering into my public celebrations too. I seem to be even more aware of God's presence - and the presence of the people whether in the church or at home - than ever before. I'm coming to realise that this may be an example of what more and more people are talking about as the hidden graces or benefits of this terrible situation in which we find ourselves. 

On the day when the Gospel tells of Jesus being led into the desert by the Holy Spirit, into the place where we are on our own, we discover that, of course, we are not really on our own. And if we can really enter into this situation, just God and I together, we can gain a much deeper understanding of who we are - and who is this God who is with us there.

Ash Wednesday through Art

"Tapestry" at 50

Time for another musical memory. I heard on the news this morning that it's 50 years since the release of Carole King's landmark album "Tapestry". This came out as I was starting University, embarking on a new phase of my life. "Tapestry" quickly became a big favourite among students, with every song speaking to us. Very unusually, I don't think there's a single dud on the whole album. 

This morning I've been leading a "Service of Love and Commitment" for our diocesan Family Life Commission, particularly aimed at couples whose marriage arrangements have been disrupted by the pandemic, but open to all wishing to celebrate marriage and family life. In my homily I used one of the songs from "Tapestry" as my way into the subject. "Will you still love me tomorrow?" speaks of the end of a day when love has been shared, but also of the fear that it may not last until the next day. Does the love shared reflect a commitment shared too?

 Here Carole King sings it some years later in a beautiful pared down version with James Taylor, another great name from those days. 

 

Bringing Lourdes home

 

I'm taking part in this series of Zoom evenings 7 - 8pm leading up to the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes on Thursday.  My talk is on Monday, the first day of the series. In case you can't read the above flyer, it is 7pm Monday-Wednesday   Zoom 868 571 1627 / cathedral, and Thursday live-stream from the Cathedral via www.cardiff cathedral.org.uk   Why not join in?

Another favourite - Darius Rucker

Time for some more music from my favourites.  Back in 1994 a band emerged in America called Hootie and the Blowfish (I know, what kind of name is that).  Leader was Darius Rucker, who is black when the rest of the band were white - unusual combination, and also unusual was the kind of country sound with a black singer. Anyway the album - and the band - were huge in the US though not so big here in the UK, and have never been far off my listening list. 

Seems they went their own way for a few years in more recent times, and here is Darius in 2010 singing one of the best known songs from the album 'Let Her Cry', in a more aoustic version. I love his voice, gritty but also a finely tuned instrument I think as this performance shows. 

I'll include the words as I did recently for Hotel California, because they manage to be moving yet mysterious at the same time, open to different interpretations, but basically about handling messes in relationships.

           

         She sits alone by a lamp post Tryin' to find the thought that's escaped her mind

She says, "Dad's the one I love the most   But Michael Stipe's not far behind"

She never lets me in, only tells me where she's been
When she's had too much to drink
I say that I don't care, I just run my hands through her dark hair
Then I pray to God you gotta help me fly away

He said: Let her cry if the tears fall down like rain
Let her sing if it eases all her pain
Let her go, let her walk right out on me
And if the sun comes up tomorrow, let her be, let her be

This morning I woke up alone, found a note standing by the phone
Sayin', "Maybe, maybe I'll be back someday"
Like a fool I wanted to look for you  You walked in, I didn't know just what I should do
So I sat back down and had a beer and felt sorry for myself

Sayin' let her cry if the tears fall down like rain
Let her sing if it eases all her pain
Let her go, let her walk right out on me
And if the sun comes up tomorrow, let her be, let her be

Last night I tried to leave, she cried so much I could not believe
She was the same girl I fell in love with long ago
She went in the back to get high  I sat down on my couch and started to cry

for my momma, I said "Oh, mama, please help me
Won't you hold my hand, get me outta here", and

She said:  Boy let her cry if the tears fall down like rain
Let her sing if it eases all her pain
Let her go, I walked out on her,

And if the sun comes up tomorrow, let her be