It was early in the morning on a Monday of half term that my friend and I went up to the Lake District to go walking. It was his first visit to Leyland and I was delighted to have his company for a good walk on the fells, though I questioned how would it be, as it has been a long time since I have tackled any serious walking. It is a pastime I love and, in the event, it was not bad at all, just a bit of good old stiffness in a few limbs and, although a disorienting mist came down with ‘serious rain’ from time to time, we got by with help from friends we met on the walk. He had been a Queen’s Scout and was expert at taking a compass bearing said his wife, and indeed he led us safely down the Eskdale fells, above Grasmere. Without him, we would have been in some difficulty.

In the car, on the way back to Leyland, my friend said: “Do you mind if I ask you some serious questions?” I had got to know him well and was delighted to respond. So he began: “I wonder why Jesus was born when he was, 2,000 years ago in the Holy Land. Of course the world was in a bad state then but why did he not choose to be born today, when the world is much worse off than in those days, as far as I can tell. In fact I wonder what difference has Christianity really made to our world over these years?”

Nobody had ever put that question to me before, and, since raised, it has made me ponder quite a lot, because I am sure it came as the result of some serious thought. Readers may empathise with it. Has the coming of Jesus made a difference?  I realise now, twelve days after the event, that of course Jesus’ presence, today, is very real in this world, as it always has been since his Resurrection. It is we, ourselves, who put up a barrier, making us think that God, or Jesus, is remote from us.  I thought of the many people, like me, who belong to Religious Orders in the world, and their presence is a sure sign that Jesus’ work, leading to the foundation of the Church, has made a big impact. How much good has been done, and is still being done, in the fields of education, health care, social action, even in scientific and human progress – to name just a few – because of those in Religious Life within the Church.

Remembrance Day, Sunday 11 November 2012.

Just four days ago on Remembrance Sunday, we had four ministers, two Anglicans, an Orthodox and myself, at the South Ribble Borough Council Remembrance Service, held in St. Mary’s Leyland. We happily shared the prayers and readings and gave a joint blessing at the end of the service, all signs of hope for the Church of the future; present also were the 400, or so, of all denominations, (and none), present to pray with the whole of Britain, for peace in our world, and to honour and pray for all who have given their lives in war. This could not have happened without Jesus.

Some of the Congregation at the Remembrance Day Service

The prayer, communally, was a wonderful witness of all that can happen, to bring many of the varied opinions, together in a common cause; all this must be based on the truths of Christian belief.

Giving back the standards at the end of the Service

On Tuesday, I had the privilege to preside at the Requiem Mass of Berna Banks. Not many attended her funeral, yet here was a most remarkable person being remembered and  buried. She was a Prestonian through and through, and only came to Leyland in the mid 1980’s. She, and her husband, George, very quickly got fully involved in our Parish life – not easy when new friends had to be made. However, they achieved this, and their actions are a tribute to their integrity. Hardly any Parish event went by without Berna and George being involved. He was a minister of the Eucharist, and the couple frequented St. Anne’s School Mass centre, on a Sunday, where we had Mass at 10am. Later, she was always at St. Mary’s.

Berna Banks with her husband George in 1998 on their Golden Wedding

day just before George died.

Eventually, in July 1998, George died, and I had many personal conversations with Berna to arrange his funeral.  Her quality of life struck me forcibly. She had then lost her husband, and friend of 50 years, yet she remained calm and serene, positive and up-beat. My estimation of her went up, and up, as she, happily lived on with her confident and positive outlook, over the next 12 or so years. Of course, she declined in health, and was unable to get to Mass sometimes. But, that was all part of it. Later, she had to wear a patch over one of her eyes; it did not remove her cheerfulness. About three weeks ago, I visited her at the nursing home in Longton, where she was very well tended. Lying there on her hospital bed, she had the same outlook as ever. Never sorry for herself, she was interested in many events, and still had that positive and realistic attitude concerning her own situation. Berna was quite a remarkable human being, in my estimation, and all of us who knew her, can claim to be the better for that knowledge of her. She was a great example; one from whom we can all learn.

After her death, her family found some of her writings in a note book; they give us a key, enabling us to begin to understand something of her serenity, and her loving trust. She was a strong, intelligent person, a strict mother, a devout Catholic, who knew God, and loved him; unquestionably, she loved all her family and others. Of course, she came to know God by faith; but faith is knowledge, and she talked to him; below is something she wrote, herself. It happens to be her adaptation of Cardinal Newman’s prayer, and I now reproduce it exactly as written (though not, regretfully, in her own neat hand-writing). At the end, she could have added, “adapted by me, from Cardinal Newman”.

My God you have created me to do you some definite service.

You have given some definite work to me which you have not given to any other.

I had my place in your plan. I may never know what it is in this life, but I will be told in the next.

Therefore I will trust you in all things.

If I am sick, my sickness may serve you.

If I am worried, my worry may serve you.

If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve you.

You do nothing in vain, you know what your are doing.

You may take away my friends; you may put me among strangers.

You may make me feel forgotten: you may make my spirits sink.

You may hide my future from me;

Still you know what your are doing,

And I trust you, Amen. (Cardinal Newman)

The sentence below the above reflection, also written in her own hand, is entirely her own creation:

God is my loving father, my dear brother and redeemer, my indwelling friend now and forever.

The coming of Jesus into this world, 2,000 years ago, and the subsequent formation of the Church, has been an immeasurably positive force, in the world, ever since. Yes, evil, sin, despair, war, violence and hatred remain, but, how much worse it would have been, had nobody taught us what unselfish love means, as Jesus did, or opened up knowledge of God for us. To go back to the beginning, I thank my friend for his question, as we returned tired and content, from our walk up Eskdale ten days ago. That burning question has made me think, and appreciate, something more of this mysterious life we live, hopefully, in union with God, whom Jesus reveals to us.

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