... an opportunity to shop with a vengeance but without the guilt? Spending money we don’t have – and pay it off for another ten years? Giving in, and fulfilling the kids’ demands to receive the same iPhone as their friends at school?

What are we supposed to be waiting for?

Saint George is the patron saint of England - but actually he wasn't English at all. His story is so steeped in myth and legend that it is virtually impossible to separate fact and fiction. The followers would write up fabulous accounts of his life, and so improving St George's reputation, but that did nothing to enlighten us about his real life. Apparently he was born in an area which is now in Turkey. Legend tells us that his parents were Christian. He became a Roman soldier but protested against Rome's persecution of Christians. As a result St George was imprisoned and tortured, but he stayed true to his faith and was beheaded.

He is not only the patron saint of England but also of many other countries and places in the world. He looks after a wide ranging array of professions too. The flag of Saint George - a red cross on a white background - is part of the Union Jack. 

I am not sure where I am. It is dark, cold and damp. My body aches in places I don’t remember existed. The worst seem the hands and feet, and one spot just below where the ribcage is supposed to be. My back stings and burns as if someone has ripped the skin off.  I find breathing really difficult and need long pauses between each breath. My skin is icy cold, but seems to warm up very slowly now with each breath I take. I am still very weak and stiff. Very slowly I feel as if I am becoming alive for a second time. Tentatively I try to move my limbs, but I encounter resistance. So I continue to keep still, attempting to regain awareness of my whole body once more, and try to think where I was before I woke up.

I am not sure where I am. It is dark, cold and damp. My body aches in places I don’t remember existed. The worst seem the hands and feet, and one spot just below where the ribcage is supposed to be. My back stings and burns as if someone has ripped the skin off.  I find breathing really difficult and need long pauses between each breath. My skin is icy cold, but seems to warm up very slowly now with each breath I take. I am still very weak and stiff. Very slowly I feel as if I am becoming alive for a second time. Tentatively I try to move my limbs, but I encounter resistance. So I continue to keep still, attempting to regain awareness of my whole body once more, and try to think where I was before I woke up.

All I remember is a terribly dark place with a landscape similar to ours here, except everything was in different hues of grey and black. And there was a terrible noise! Billions of shadows in human form were crying out to me, wanting a blessing and rest – just like on the mountain in another life. At first I did not understand what they were saying, but gradually I realized that they were trapped in this place and condemned to roam around without ever being allowed to rest. Their overseer kept them in constant activity, and although there was nothing to do they still had to look busy and occupied. This was going on relentlessly, since time was not measured. My heart went out to these spirits, and I blessed them. They sighed and evaporated like mist. So gradually the noise from those terrified unhappy spirits became less and then stopped completely. There were no shadows left. As a result I was attacked by the overseers who were unspeakably angry because I had not only taken away their work, but also the food of the Lord of the Underworld. That is the last thing I remember, but it felt good nevertheless to give those poor souls freedom and rest.

Anyway, I am here again now. Very slowly my senses start working again too. It smells like there had been a dead body in here, but that seems to subside slowly. There is also a lingering perfume of embalming ointment around. Was that me? Am I being brought back to life again? Never mind, I hear heavy steps from somewhere nearby. They seem to go back and forth, like a guard of some kind, sounding almost military. But then something strange is happening. I hear feather light steps and whispering sounds, as if another person is in this place with me. I try to move again, but something is happening to my face now: I feel pressure and movement. My face seems to have been covered; however the wraps are being taken away by very gentle hands. Carefully I move my head from side to side – it works. Then there is more activity around the rest of my body; very awkward and painful in some places, but by and by I can move my arms and legs too. Amazingly there is also a sliver of light, so I can see a tiny bit.

There are two figures in white with me here. I am still feeling very weak, so I stay where I am; still warming up and gently regaining control of my body. Although the light in here is very dim it still hurts my eyes. So I shut them again, but suddenly there is an incredibly loud and screaming sound, and at the same time there is brightness everywhere. I don’t even need to open my eyes to realize that the sun is up and the door is open. The person in white puts some clothes next to me and then patiently helps me to get dressed again. It all takes quite a long time. The dying do everything very slowly, and I am feeling as if I am working my way backwards to return to life again. So I start moving slowly but by and by I become master of my limbs and senses once more.

When I cast my eyes around I realize that the place in which I am is a burial place. On a slab of stone I see heaps of bandages. I ask the gentle persons in white about them, and they tell me that I had been dead for three days and two nights. Now I gradually can also recollect some of the things that happened before the nightmare in the black place. It was terrible, but now I am alive and gradually I am filled with unspeakable joy and gratitude for the gift of life that is given to me again. Then I move slowly forward to the spot where the light is coming from, and I am face to face with the most glorious garden I have ever seen. Paradise looks like this.

I move towards the entrance and hear someone weeping. When I look out there is Mary, and she looks at me as if I was a stranger. She seems to be deeply grieving. Then she asks me where they have laid my body. Good job I know now that I was dead, so I am not too shocked. I call her name, and she recognizes me. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, because now she takes hold of me as if she were drowning. I have to remind her to let go of me so that I can move again. I tell her that I need to ascend into heaven. Then she questions me about what happened today.

Someone wrote a poem about this interview, so I shall share it with you:

Why do you look so different?
Because I had clothes divided
So someone brought another suit
And my old life subsided
I come from death’s dark abyss
None ever lived after this
So my face too
Changed its hue

What does the delight in this garden mean?
In a garden my suffering began
And to go back to Eden all humanity’s keen
So here I heal the division of God and man
And show how love death outran
So this garden too
Changed what is true

Why do you now hold me back so much?
I hurt from where I have been.
Wait – into the sky I need to ascend.
From there your pain I shall mend.
My hug will be power never seen.
Then of fire my body will be,
And many God shall see.

Do you remember the weeks before Christmas? The waiting – looking for hidden Christmas presents in the cupboard; living one day for the next when you can open another little window on your advent calendar, if you had one? While I was preparing for this article God let me in on a secret. He allowed me to listen in on the conversation Mary had with Him when she became pregnant with His Son. The best I can do is to share it with you now.

“I am Mary. I just went into my room to pray. Then there arrived this beautiful stranger. He looked at me like no one has ever looked at me before. Surely he was a holy man, because when he embraced me I just melted. And it was as if he was giving himself to me in a way I had never experienced. Of course all my relatives have given me big hugs before, but this was completely different. It was as if I had been in heaven and seen God. Still more exciting, it was as if God had been inside me! Even telling it makes me glow all over again.”

I’m just a bag lady from Paddington Green
I lives ‘neath the arches, unheard and unseen.
I once craved a palace and got me a box,
I longed for the good life but just took the knocks.

I’m a lonely no-hoper, a blot on the land
A cause without meaning what don’t understand
Why you can’t beg a penny, while luggin’ yer bags
Cos they say you’ll just blow it on booze and on fags! 

Yes, I’m just a Bag Lady from Paddington Green
I live’s ‘neath the arches unheard and unseen.

Excerpt from ‘The SMart Review’, by Maureen Grayson

What do you do to fill your house with people? Usually one gives out invitations – by post, email or in person. I never thought about this before, but only complained that no one came to visit me. Then someone asked me: ‘have you actually invited someone to your home?’This is a very good question in many ways. After I have decided who I would like to come, and given the invitation, I begin behaving like Martha in the gospel. I worry about food, table decorations, tidiness in the living room and other fairly irrelevant details.

Putting myself in Matthew’s shoes, I wonder what his invitation was like. I don’t think there were all these things to think about in his time. For a proper meal in higher circles you reclined; that meant lying sideways on a narrow couch and taking your food from a low table in the middle. Sounds like utter luxury, doesn’t it? This is what Jesus came to when he dined with Matthew, apparently very soon after having called him as a disciple. What strikes me about the meal Jesus shared with Matthew and his friends is how unconcerned Matthew apparently was about the fact that Jesus did not at all belong to his kind of environment.

And Jesus, walking by the Sea of Galilee, saw two brothers, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen.  Then He said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” They immediately left their nets and followed Him.

Going on from there, He saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets. He called them, and immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed Him. (Matthew 4:18-22 New King James Version)

Have you ever noticed the serious expressions of people when they come back from the altar after the Eucharist? What a pity. The Jesus I came to know was not like that. He always enjoyed a good meal and fellowship with his friends. This makes me wonder about the reasons why people go to mass. 

Do they go for the food? That would explain, at least to some extent, the sombre expressions since a sliver of wafer and a sip of wine will not satisfy their hunger if it is physical. Another reason for going to mass may be fellowship with like-minded people, and the disappointment due to the formality of the occasion could be hard to stomach – literally and metaphorically. All speculations aside about the reasons individual people go to the Mass; there is another much more appealing motive.

Tamara Katzenbach
The first thing we learn about the Spirit is that she hovers. That would be a kestrel then, except that she is not a bird of prey. She is gentle in nature and usually does not destroy the one over whom she hovers.

Resurrection – what does it really mean? When I checked the exact meaning of this word I came across some interesting facts and some new insights emerged. Apart from the Christian belief that Jesus Christ was restored to life after he died on the Cross, a Roman tool of torture and execution, there is also made mention of so called resurrection plants. These are plants which can survive long periods of drought. One plant that is named is the Rose of Jericho. This plant grows in the Judean desert, and in the dry periods its leaves and stems dry up and wrap themselves into a ball around the seeds inside. This means that the seeds are well protected, but as soon as it rains again the plant unfolds and the seeds are dispersed and come to life – within hours if there is plenty of water. Often seeds stay on the plant, sprout and grow in the same place. How could that apply to ourselves in the Faith and in the Church?