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I trained for the priesthood at Oscott College in Birmingham. At the end of each year I took the opportunity of working in the Tea Shop on Caldey Island which houses a Cistercian Monastery. I am a very different person from the one who was in seminary, I am grateful to Caldey island for renewing the moisture, to a dry spiritual life. I have been reflecting on my time spent there during this lockdown.
I really love the Mass and during this time have slowed down the pace via webcam, connecting with people, the words have impacted me more deeply than ever before, and the pace of the Mass at Prinknash and Caldey are flooding my celebration of Mass during these days.
This poem “Heaven’s Creaking Door” is a reflection on how much I was given by my experience on Caldey, during those summer months.
Compline or night prayer was sung each day at 7 30 pm. I would have a day serving in the Tea Shop, a supper provided by an islander, and then the highlight of the day, a half hour of compline with the monks, looking towards heaven as I saw it then… and still do now! I owe a debt of thanks to the monks of Caldey and Prinknash, for assisting my often stumbling and tentative steps towards the priesthood.
Heaven’s Creaking Door
I remember a bright summers day spent on Caldey Island, a seminarian seeking something, learning from surroundings, walking along a path, dry dust underfoot, (a comment on my spiritual life at that time) thirsting for inspiration, I remember a determined stride taken, after finishing a nourishing supper, provided by an angel, though a grumpy one, this path let to a wooden door, slightly worn, a door that had seen better days, yet it did its job of creakingly opening, to reveal an oasis, heavens prayerful dew.
The monastic church was simple, white walls, with a gorgeous crucifix hanging from mid air. I ventured in, finding the back row, and I stood leant against the back and side wall, in the corner, alone no distractions, cocooned in my own thoughts, ready for the next half hour. As the bell rang, the shuffling of monastic feet compelled me to stand straight, and with anticipation, my heart did not have long to wait. “O God come to our aid and heaven swooped down, and I was standing at the creaking door of those pearly gates, ready to burst my way into.
“What can bring us happiness?” words in magical harmony, and sweet melody, caressed the air, and soon my head was bowed at the Nunc Dimittis…Now Lord!” a real throaty cry of trust…”now Lord, let your servant go in peace.” I did not know then that compline was a giving in to mortality, and digging a grave, until on that day of resurrection and reward, that doorway would not just creakingly, but gladly open wide, and I will walk through.
