Faith and the Future

Faith and the future

 

 

THE DECISION BY THE Bishops of England and Wales to renew the dedication of the country to Mary – following the original dedication by Richard II in the 14th century – taps into an important spiritual reserve. The Scottish Bishops similarly dedicated Scotland to Our Lady at the shrine of Carfin in 2017. And without ignoring that great nation, with its own heritage and noble story, we need to explore this English thing for a moment.

 

 

We use the word “reserve” in the sense that a reservoir holds water, or a good cellar a reserve of wine and food. A nation can have a reserve of spiritual strength, perhaps running a bit low – water can do that in a dry spell too – but still available for use. There is, among Catholics in Britain, a reserve of faith, a recognition of a rich heritage kept with great courage by martyrs and cherished down generations, that exists in a sort of collective family album. It is multi-racial, is not associated with nationalism and is not political. It does not seek to be integriste or to indulge in notions of a Church/State alliance that is associated with unhelpful examples abroad and a folk memory of bitter Reformation conflict at home. It is not even particularly nostalgic. It is more like a family album - perhaps one of those new on-line sort – muddled, but recognisable, with pages yet to be filled and new sections opened.

 

 

This spiritual reserve was opened up – and was also replenished by – the successful State Visit of Pope Benedict XVI in 2010, exactly a decade ago this year. There was goodwill and a cheerful neighbourly mood which - to the bafflement of the mass media in general and the BBC in particular – brought crowds into the streets to cheer the Pope and coachload after coachload to the Mass at Cofton Park for the beatification of John Henry Newman.

 

Newman – yes, he is an important part of this heritage. A very English saint in so many ways: Oxford, of course, and London up to a point, but more importantly also unfashionable Birmingham, and railway journeys, and humour, and a strong sense of justice. And, as a Catholic, being misunderstood, and regarded as marginal to national life until reality dawned and the public came to grasp the bigger picture. And attractive in an ecumenical spirit: we were touched by the moving message of HRH the Prince of Wales at Newman’s canonisation, revealing as it did a real knowledge of the saint, and a love of his beautiful poems and hymns.

 

 

A first point to grasp about the Catholic community of England and Wales is what a mix we are. By far the biggest annual pilgrimage to Walsingham is that of the Tamils. Another large group is Caribbean. Many of our parishes, and our priests – notably in South London, for example – are African. There are large numbers of Filipinos among us. There are substantial numbers of Indian people, many from Kerala. There are a good many Poles – they have their own churches and parish structure dating from the years following WWII, but are present in plenty of other parishes too.

 

 

With this prayer-list ready, let us approach this solemn re-dedication of England with open hearts. Walsingham is a popular place of pilgrimage, and is central to our selfunderstanding as Catholics in our country. The destruction of the shrine under Henry VIII and its revival at the end of the 19th century is echoed in the whole story of Catholicism in Britain. And it’s a death-and-resurrection story which is rooted in the centrality of what we understand as Christians. That is why we dare to ask for a revival of the Faith in our land. That is why re-dedicating England to Mary is not some exercise in goodwill or a feel-good thing for people who like Marian hymns. As so often happens in the life of the Church, something offered with faith, hope and love will – perhaps after some testing and some challenges and difficulties – be fruitful and achieve more than we can imagine.