I had felt I had lost my faith over the summer. Post-PhD lapse - or simply the intolerance of some aspects of the current Vatican policies - had exhausted my patience. Then I went to Mass today in St John's Wood, and was surprised to discover the Year of Faith begins this coming Thursday, October 11. A year to reflect on faith and faithlessness, on the vacillations of the spirit. Now, I can't promise miracles, but I feel somewhat renewed today by this happy convergence of my own doubts and needs, and the official programme of the coming year. Meanwhile, and just as importantly, Hans Kung, a dissenting priest, is raising vital concerns about the future directions of the Church. There looks like a very enriching debate about renewal to be had in 2013.
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
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