For me – and, I suspect – for many others, the period in the ‘run-up’ to Christmas tends always to become a bit ‘silly’, but more than that, it is a time when the ‘evil one’ is well known to try and get his ‘claws’ into people. This is because this special time is a moment of grace, and he who is the master of lies, will do all he can to destroy unity and joy, and bring division and sadness into peoples’ lives. To fight these negative influences, I think it best to do as well as possible all the things that have to be done: for me it is to recognise, quietly, the great vocation I have as a monk and a priest, to write Christmas cards, attend the various performances of plays, concerts and functions that are offered us by the schools, also by prisons and organisations all around.  At the same time, we should try not to to interfere with others too much, except to respond in every situation with love – even when that is hard to muster –  and especially when we are tired. People call on my time to share conversations and something of themselves, and of course, it is good to be wanted and to be able to enter into their lives, listening with them to wherever the conversations lead, under the benign eye of love. But, I have also called on the time of others, too, and invariably the response has proved helpful to me. Love seems to help in all sorts of various ways, smoothing paths, relieving tensions, throwing light on the circumstances that gave rise to the conversation, and even to provide guidance about what actually should be done. 

The theme of priesthood is in my heart and mind at present.  A very good book called, “As The Father Has Loved Me”, contains a short, daily meditation on priesthood. In this ‘Year of the Priest’, I use it each day and, on Wednesday, the title was “As at Nazareth”.  Many of those who read these words will know that, only recently, I was in Nazareth, the home of the Holy Family, and saw both the small “space” – the home of Mary – where the Annunciation took place, the house of Joseph, where he taught Jesus his trade – probably as a builder rather than a carpenter – and the place where Mary, Joseph and Jesus would have gone to collect water, the only source of water in their days, in the then tiny hamlet of Nazareth. They were a small group of ‘virgins’, living in the complete harmony of a family. 

The meditation was about the Holy Family, and it concerned priests who also need to belong to “family”. It talks about the priest who reaches retirement and old age and describes as  ‘absurd’ and ‘against the teaching of Jesus’ if such a person, perhaps old, decrepit and ill, were abandoned and left in loneliness. Equally, it would of course be absurd and sad for a young priest to feel alone and abandoned. Rather, a family house was used to explain the meditation, where diocesan priests live in one house, together, in a way appropriate to their vocation, a way that is both attractive and beautiful, because from this shines out the harmony and love of ‘virgin’ men living together. It could be an ‘open home’ for seminarians to visit, brother priests as well, and, of course, the lay people, because where Jesus lives (as at Nazareth) there would be a sense of communion and love – with no generation gap between young and old – and a welcome for all. 

Looking around at our diocesan priests in England, it seems sad and regrettable to me that so many are living alone, without the company of others in close harmony and love. It may be a necessity, and it may be the way diocesan priests prefer to live. However, we as Benedictines, who do live together, have something of this ‘priestly house’ atmosphere – but, of course, in another way.  We have no possessions of our own, and so we do not have the independence of the diocesan priest. We belong to one community of brothers, unlike diocesan priests who are a “brotherhood of priests”, but not under a “charism” – a common rule – and their “brotherhood” is much looser than those in a Religious Order, and indeed rightly so. 

Yet, we monks do have adult male companionship: we do have the old and young together; we can be a place of welcome for fellow priests and for others who come and visit, parishioners searching for what they need, as well as others who come from further afield. We have had, in our Leyland community, old men like Fr. Wilfrid Mackenzie, who made a great contribution to our life together – and younger men, for, at last, there is one, in the present community where I live, who is younger than I.  Strangely, it has been my lot, for most of my monastic life on the parish, to be the youngest monk in the house. We are blessed, too, with lay people who live and work closely with us, sharing the burdens of the day with us in many different ways – but also sharing in this ‘sense of family’. 

It is not possible for a monk and priest to comment on the lives of those who are diocesan priests, but the need for “family”, in some real way, seems to be a universal need. I hope my brother diocesan priests have this experience of family in some truly meaningful way.  Should they fail to experience it, then I hope that, as monks, we can share this sense of family with our fellow priests towards our mutual support, as indeed, diocesan priests support us monks in many ways, too.