Lounging lambs

The cold still bites here in Royal Berkshire, but at least the sun has managed to put his hat on occasionally, and to lovely effect. That said, yesterday was mostly filled with flurries of snow flakes, and the daffodils are terribly confused.

One effect of the sunshine is to encourage a little ritual lambs are fond of indulging in. After joining in the feeding frenzy on barley and hay with the ewes, they like to have a little chill time and think on the eternal verities. And they like to do it together. Normally in the sun they would play, but in the recent bleak and freezing weather they prefer to act like solar cells, and soak up as much warmth as possible. It begins when a nice bed of strewn hay is found in full sun. A couple will settle, satisfactorily gorged for now, and other lambs decide that they have the right idea.

 

Quickly you have five settling in for some sun.

 

And soon there are six, as a couple of the early comers start warming to their task of… warming.

 

After some maternal intrusion and subsequent re-arrangement, they resettle to reveal the sun-and-slumber party has grown to eight.

 

Malcolm, the youngest, is very much his own lamb and sits off a little to the side, balancing community with independence… and sleep.

 

And looking back to the main assembly we find the other nine have finally settled together, Cher, the only girl among them, showing a suitable juvenile female disdain for boys.

 

And they shall stay till the next human diversion arrives; for now, I have become far too boring to notice.

 

Pax!

An Easter Lamb

The Triduum is a busy time for a monk who is both sacristan and cantor. Unexpectedly, my shepherd’s hat was on today as well – a surprise lamb born today, Holy Saturday, in the midst of our first period of sunshine for quite a while (though it still be chilly).

Though untimely born, she is well-omened. So Frances is our Easter lamb. 11 live lambs this year, our best crop ever (and this after three dead at birth). Alas, only two of them girls. A weird year. Given North Korea’s excessively loud belligerence, perhaps the end of the world is nigh. Repent, while we have the light of life.

Below is the little girl and her young mother (barely over a year old herself, and rejected by her own mother last year), taken with shaky, frozen hand on a mobile phone.

HAPPY EASTER!

A novena and an omen

Yesterday afternoon two more lambs were born, which makes 7 in three days, and 9 in total – an ovine novena. Alas I only heard yesterday’s twins had arrived after dark, so after a fretful night I went out, after an earlier breakfast, through the sun-pierced fog and across crunching frost hoping for the best. And it was granted. A first time mother, Josephine, had given birth to a loud twin-set of lungs on legs. After her panic as I hoisted the lambs into the nursery pen, she followed us in and calmed down to the point of serenity. Having docked the lambs’ tails, and realised I had yet two more boys, I had a little play with the lads before they fed from mother while she wolfed down some barley (all photos should enlarge on being clicked): In light of the papal theme, it seemed apropos to name these two after the two most favoured papabili for the upcoming conclave. Our new albino boy, Angelo, declared approval: His brother, Marc, looked equally pleased, though he was forced to keep quiet by his more urgent need to lick his lips after downing a warming draught of mother’s best: When I let in the others, who were all waiting expectantly by the gate, there was a wonderful confusion of excited lambs escaping briefly the maternal leash, and of mothers frantically trying to put them back on the leash. All sorted in time: Returning this afternoon with some long-awaited mineral lick, it was lovely to see Cephas (at right) sitting near his grandmother with her boys Joseph and Benedict. The sunshine was very popular. Sunbathing was order of the day. Sonny and Cher slept through most of my visit: Joseph and Benedict showed already signs of being scallywags, trespassing on other mothers and then sampling the mineral lick when they thought no one was looking: The two eldest, Alban and Bartholomew, seemed lost in contemplation of the sun among the molehills, and I thought I might get quite close for a promo shot: But I was spotted and cast a disdainful look: Meanwhile the new boys were finding their legs and learning the art of brotherly love: In light of this preponderance of boys, 8 out of 9 lambs in total, surely there is a clear omen discernible. This is a near-certain sign that the next pope will be male. You heard it here first.

Lambs galore!

Another chap born at the end of High Mass today, in glorious sunshine. I waited around in case a twin was still to pop out but the mother happily munched away without any sign of impending delivery, so this lad is a solo act. That makes 5 in 24 hours – the nursery paddock is abuzz with doting mothers and inquisitive lambs. But 6 boys and 1 girl makes for an annoying gender imbalance.

Anyway, meet…….

Cephas! (If you know your gospels, and you know this week’s events, you know why.)

 

Meanwhile Sonny and Cher spent their second day, with Mum, sunbathing.

 

Joseph and Benedict likewise took some sun, and seemed destined to stick together like limpet mines.

 

Meanwhile the two eldest boys do not know what all the fuss is about.

Buona domenica.

Lamb Alert

Yesterday four little bundles of ovine joy were delivered here. One ewe had twin boys, who light of the current situation just had to be called Joseph and Benedict. Benedict is the one who has more papal white about him:

Joseph (left) and Benedict

Another ewe had twins covering both sexes, and to balance the sacred with some profane, they are now Sonny and Cher:

Sonny (standing) and Cher

May they graze as safely as we have under our good Shepherd, Benedict XVI.

From a monastery window

This afternoon I looked to my left and saw one of the windows of my neighbour (the Subprior)…

Not a window to stand under for a while.

And looking left I saw this chap…

Heading for the trees, this munjack deer must have realised he was a little too conspicuous today.

A changing church – part 1

Over at the New Liturgical Movement one can find a rich resource for charting the changes that liturgical reform has brought to church architecture and liturgical vestments. Very few churches go through life without being modified in some way to meet new circumstances, or as a result of war or disaster. Some changes are good; some are woeful. Even Douai Abbey‘s relatively young and humble abbey church has seen a good deal of change, nearly all of it before my arrival here. Nevertheless our photo archive affords a glimpse into the changes that have been made to our church in its near 80 years of existence. It fascinated me, and perhaps some others will find the photos of interest. They will enlarge on being clicked.

Construction circa 1929, seen from the top floor of the then monastery block, the Ark, later to become a dormitory for the school. The church was designed by Arnold Crush (1885-1936), a convert from Birmingham, and a pupil of Sir Giles Gilbert Scott.

The west end of the abbey church under construction, with what was originally intended as the chapter house on the right. In the event it was for a time the novitiate, and now houses the sacristy, some offices and some guest rooms.

The abbey church in the year of its opening, 1933. The original plan was not completed due to lack of funds. It was to be a very large church in red-brick Decorated Gothic.  What was built here was meant to be the lady chapel and chancel. A temporary west end was built, which became semi-permanent, remaining 60 years. This represents only one-third of Crush’s design, as much as was ever built.

The abbey church and its ‘temporary’ west end, seen through the monastery gates. The Ark, at this time the monastery, can be seen at far right.

The interior of the abbey church prior to some minor renovation in 1952. The choir stalls are still in use, the eagle-ambo long gone, and the cantors’ stools, relics from old Douai, now elsewhere in the monastery. The seating for the boys seems rather attractive to me; if only we still had those seats.

A postcard view of the abbey church prior to 1952. Its current Grade II* listing is in no small way due to the church being an early example of the innovation of structural stone-clad concrete.

A closer view of the pre-1952 altar, with its lovely sanctuary carpet. The postcard entitles it the Lady Altar, a nod to the fact that this area, though used as the choir and sanctuary, was intended as the Lady Chapel. Until 1978 this was the principal altar of the church.

In what is now the Blessed Sacrament Chapel was the St Benedict Chapel. The simple yet elegant altar remains to this day, with fine lettering by Christopher Derrick. The squat candlesticks we still use today on the main altar.

Between the St Benedict Chapel and the entrance to the choir was the altar of St Joseph. Now long gone, victim to the reforming zeal for one altar only in a church, the area today is behind the new Tickell organ and is a chair store. The triptych is now rather awkwardly placed in the sacristy for the house chapel.

A poor quality photo showing the church arrayed for a Requiem offered on the death of Pope Pius XI in 1939. Note the unbleached candles and the papal tiara (made of cardboard I believe!).

In time the church was equipped with the first of its organs. Here is a shot with a young Fr Romuald (+2012 – RIP) tickling the keys.

Part 2 to come in due course. Pax!

A disoriented visitor

Monasteries receive a wide variety of visitors and guests, the majority of whom come to experience something of the prayerfulness, peace and quiet of the place. For them a monastery is a place to re-group one’s resources to face life with hope and, we pray, with faith.

Some visitors are just plain disoriented. One such visitor arrived a few days ago, without warning, and managed to enter into the monastic enclosure. This was not the normal run of visitor: it was a bird. And it was not the normal run of bird: it was a young peregrine falcon. We have lots of red kites flying above the monastic grounds, but the falcon is a rare sight indeed. And to see one so close. This one was a little out of sorts, and we speculated that perhaps this youngster had flown too low and hit one of the glass walls of our cloister, and so dazed itself. It very civilly remained long enough for me to run up and get my little camera for some quick snaps, for perhaps I might never again be so close to a peregrine falcon.

As usual, photos will get bigger on being clicked with your mouse.

Shelter in the refectory oak.

Not too sure about these humans…

Sick of us, it flew to the safety of the church.

It is ruffling its feathers.

Time for some remedial grooming.

Nothing helps to regain composure like tidying oneself up a little.

One last look before flying off.

The peregrine is the fastest animal alive, 200 mph when diving. At that speed, one needs to pay more attention to the road. Hopefully this youngster learnt that lesson.

Life and death at Douai Abbey

A few days back I posted some pictures of some wagtails and their chicks, safely nested in one of our crumbling garages. A snap was taken of two chicks. (As usual, all photos get bigger if clicked.)

Today, making a pitstop in the dry on the way to the neighbouring garage I looked in on the family and got quite a shock to find three chicks.

It seems my catching them unawares exposed their ruse of being only two, so one chick decamped stage left. It was a chaotic flight, probably one of its first. It gave up after a bit and just sat in the rain glaring at me and thinking dark thoughts.

But I could not discomfit it any longer, as there was a funeral to prepare. Having received Fr Romuald’s body last night in the abbey church, today we spent singing the liturgical offices of the dead and, in the fullness of time, committing him to the earth and God’s mercy.

Being a cantor and concelebrant for the Mass I could not take pictures, but Greg, our clerk of works, snapped a few that give a soupçon of an impression of the liturgy. It was a traditional Douai monastic funeral, dignified yet not without warmth. We were blessed with a cheering number of local diocesan clergy, the Abbot President and monastic brethren from Downside, Belmont, Buckfast, Worth and Ealing Abbeys, as well as our own oblates and parishioners.

As the procession entered the cantors led the congregation in singing the introit, Requiem aeternam, and later the Kyrie. The epistle was from Romans 6:3-4, 8-9. The Psalm, 129 (130) – With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption, was sung to one of Fr Romuald’s own compositions, a most pleasing melody that has become traditional in our monastic funerals. The Gospel, taken from John 6:37-40, was preceded by the singing of the Gregorian Alleluia and verse, (again: it cannot be sung too often!) Requiem aeternam.

The homily by the abbot, after providing a potted biography of Fr Romuald, touched on some of his more notable characteristics, both explicable and otherwise. Some were a revelation to us his brethren, as most of us never really got to know him deeply. He was not given to intimacy, either in the giving or receiving. That 60 years of his life was spent living at Douai, either as boy in our boarding school or as a monk, probably goes some way to explaining that. Fr Abbot felt that the touchstone of Fr Romuald’s life was his obedience, a worthy testament indeed for a monk, as indeed it should be for every Christian according to one’s state of life.

During the Offertory the schola sang Psalm 41 (42), Like as the dear that yearns for flowing waters, set to soothing music from Tamié Abbey, arranged by Dom Charles Watson OSB. After Communion (a long time indeed, so good was the turn out to farewell Fr Fomuald) we sang the plainsong antiphon, Lux aeterna.

For the final commendation and procession to the graveside we sang, in succession, a number of plainsong pieces: Libera me Domine, Suscipe me Domine (proper for a monastic funeral, being the chant we sing on making solemn profession), In paradisum and Chorus angelorum, and the Benedictus with its funeral antiphon, Ego sum resurrectio. Our only accompaniment was the slow tolling of the church bell. Having committed Fr Romuald to God and grave, we sang the Salve Regina before dispersing. The day, grey and moist, made a suitable backdrop to the sombre rites of burial.

The funeral Mass, the ordinary form of the Mass with singing both English and Latin, with its use of black vestments, incense and water, its sober restraint and air of recollection, made for a wonderful opportunity to do what we really are meant to do at funerals: to pray for the deceased, invoking God’s mercy while yet holding before our mind’s eye the promise of the resurrection to eternal life. We kept the “celebration of his life” to its proper place, the wake.

Some charming photos of Fr Romuald, unknown to most of us, have emerged. The first is of him as a pupil in the monastic school in the mid-1940s.

Next is a shot of Fr Romuald outside the abbey church fresh from his ordination in 1955.

Lastly is a shot of him as bursar (a post he held for 22 years), in which we see him directing staff in preparing the tables in the boys’ refectory for the annual dinner of the Douai Society in 1964. Donato, second to the right of Fr Romuald in the photo, is happily still with us!

Farewell, Fr Romuald.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.

Fr Romuald Simpson OSB – body received

Tonight before vespers we received the body of our confrere, Fr Romuald Simpson OSB, who died on 5 July, aged 82. At the time of his death he was still Subprior of the monastery and Cathedral Prior of Coventry. Through the years he had been Bursar, Prior and Choirmaster as well as spending about a decade as Parish Priest of our parish of Stratford-upon-Avon. His funeral will be tomorrow (ie Monday) at 2.30pm in the abbey church, followed by his burial in the monastic cemetery next to the church. Below are a few photos taken after vespers, his coffin dressed as for a priest. They get bigger if clicked. May God, in His mercy, grant him eternal rest.

We have not lost a fellow Christian; we have restored him to the Lender. His life is not destroyed; it is changed for the better. He whom we love is not hidden in the ground; he is received into heaven. Let us wait a little while, and we shall be once more with him. The time of our separation is not long, for in this life we are all like travelers on a journey, hastening on to the same shelter. While one has reached his rest another arrives, another hurries on but one and the same end awaits them all. He has outstripped us on the way, but we shall all travel the same road, and the same hostelry awaits us all.

St Basil the Great - Letter V, To Nectarius