Saint Patrick’s Church on Donegall Road, Belfast, was built in the 1870s, replacing a church built in 1815 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
Patrick Comerford
During our short visit to Belfast last weekend, I visited or revisited a number of places of interest in the city, including Saint George’s Church on High Street and both Saint Anne’s Church of Ireland Cathedral and Saint Patrick’s Roman Catholic Church on Donegall Street.
Saint Patrick’s Church on Donegall Street is a Victorian gem and an oasis of peace in the heart of the city and it is part of community life in the city centre.
The church serves a large local resident community, a thriving population in the Cathedral Quarter, the city’s cultural and social heartland, and the students and staff in the neighbouring Belfast campus of Ulster University, as well as a busy hospital, a large primary school, and a number of residential and care homes.
The statue of Saint Patrick by James Pearse in the tympanum above the main doors of Saint Patrick’s Church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
The first church was built on the site in 1815, the year of the Battle of Waterloo, and it was the second Catholic church built in Belfast since the Reformation.
The first Roman Catholic church in Belfast was Saint Mary’s, Chapel Lane, which opened in May 1784. But with the growth of the Catholic population in Belfast in the early 19th century, Bishop William Crolly, then a priest in residence in the small town, decided to build a new church on Donegall Street.
This church, dedicated to Saint Patrick, opened in 1815. Its construction was made possible – in part – by the contribution of Belfast’s educated Protestants and civic elite. The presbytery was built as residence for the Catholic bishop and his clergy, and is Belfast’s oldest, continuously-inhabited house.
The society painter Sir John Lavery was baptised in the earlier Saint Patrick’s Church on 26 March 1856.
Inside Saint Patrick’s Church, facing the sanctuary and the east end (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
In the post-famine era Belfast’s Catholic population had swollen considerably and, while other churches and new parishes were developed, it was clear by the early 1870s that Saint Patrick’s needed a new, larger church.
The present Saint Patrick’s Church, the second on the site, was designed in the Gothic Revival style by Timothy Hevey (1846-1878) and Mortimer Thomspon. It is said the church was built ‘by the pennies of the poor’.
Timothy Hevey was a son of Timothy Hevey, a Belfast builder, and Martha Alexandra Hevey (née McNeice). He was educated at Saint Malachy’s College, Belfast, and became an apprentice in the firm of Boyd and Batt. He moved to Dublin in 1865 and became an assistant in the office of Pugin and Ashlin. There he was involved in draughting the plans for the Church of Saint Augustine and Saint John, known popularly as John’s Lane Church, the Augustinian church on Thomas Street, Dublin. John Ruskin (1818-1900), the writer, critic, artist and philosopher who is intimately associated with the Gothic Revival movement on these islands, called the church ‘a poem in stone.
Hevey married Florence Eugenie Geret in Saint Peter’s Church (Church of Ireland), Aungier Street, Dublin, on 7 March 1868. He returned to Belfast in April 1869, and worked as a builder and architect in partnership first with James Mackinnon and later with Mortimer H Thomson. He became the city’s leading Catholic architect, enjoying the patronage of Patrick Dorrian, Bishop of Down and Connor, and James McDevitt, Bishop of Raphoe, in Co Donegal.
Hevey’s career was cut short abruptly the following year when he died at the age of 33 on 29 December 1878 following a severe cold caught on a business trip to Newry.
Inside Saint Patrick’s Church, looking west from the altar (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
The foundation stone of the new church was laid by Bishop Patrick Dorrian on 18 April 1875. He had spent his early priestly ministry in the parish, and while he was Bishop of Down and Connor (1865-1885), 26 new churches were built in the diocese.
Saint Patrick’s Church was built in different coloured sandstone by Collen Brothers of Portadown and Dublin who built the new church around the old one which was then demolished.
The old church was then demolished in August 1876 and the entire fabric of the new church was speedily completed for blessing on 12 August 1877 by Archbishop Daniel McGettigan of Armagh.
Bishop Dorrian was later buried beneath the sanctuary and behind the priest’s chair. In the left transept, adjacent to Saint Joseph’s Columbarium, is his memorial, rendered in sandstone and alabaster, and it bears the arms of the Diocese of Down and Connor.
The new Saint Patrick’s Church was designed to seat 2,000 people. Both the 7 ft Portland stone statue of Saint Patrick in the tympanum above the main doors and the high altar were carved by the English-born James Pearse, father of the 1916 leader Padraig Pearse.
A two-ton bell, cast by Thomas Sheridan of Dublin, was placed in the spire, which rises to a height of 54 metres (180 ft).
The baptistry and the font with seven of the eight sides commemorating the grace given in the seven sacraments (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
Inside the church, 10 beautiful arches of red sandstone, supported by slender rose and grey Dumfries granite pillars separate the nave from each aisle. Three further arches separate the sanctuary from the nave. As the eye traces the orbit of the 15 metre (50 ft) high centre arch, it comes to rest on the pitch pine ceiling.
To the left of the sanctuary is the shrine of Our Lady of Comfort, designed and cast in bronze by the sculptor Chris Ryan of Howth in 1997.
On the right is the baptistry where seven of the eight sides of the font commemorate the grace given in the seven sacraments. An aumbry beside the font holds the holy oils used in administering the sacraments.
Two of the six windows in the south transept illustrating the life and mission of Saint Patrick (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
The stained glass windows in the church were added over time. High in the apse, seven windows depict Christ with the saints in glory; a rose window in the Shrine of Mary represents the Magi visiting Bethlehem; the rose window in the baptistry portrays Christ revealing the love of the Sacred Heart to Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque.
Four windows in the left transept, reinstalled from Saint Kevin’s Church in North Queen Street before its demolition, represent the Trinity.
The original windows in the right transept were destroyed by an explosion during the ‘Troubles’, but six newly-installed windows illustrate the life and mission of Saint Patrick.
A shrine in the nave is dedicated to Saint Anthony of Padua. There is a first class relic of the saint in the reliquary on the left side of the statue.
The altar facing the people was installed in Saint Patrick’s Church in 1997 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
The altar facing the people (versus populum) is made of Portland stone and was installed in 1997. It stands in front of the original high altar with its reredos of Caen stone and Cork red and Galway green marble columns.
The reredos and its sculptures are the work of O’Neill and Pearse of Dublin.
After a catastrophic fire on 12 October 1995, the church as restored under the then Administrator, the Very Rev David White, and the project manager, Oliver Magill. After a lengthy restoration project, the church was reopened by Bishop Patrick Walsh on 5 October 1997.
Sir John Lavery's triptych, ‘The Madonna Of The Lakes’, was given to Saint Patrick’s Church in 1919
The church has a triptych by Sir John Lavery, who was baptised in the older, smaller church. He painted ‘The Madonna Of The Lakes’ with his second wife, Hazel Trudeau, as the model for the Virgin Mary and his daughter Eileen and step-daughter Helen as models for Saint Patrick and Saint Brigid.
Lavery contacted the then Administrator of Saint Patrick’s, Father John O’Neill, in 1917 offering to donate a work of art to the church. The triptych was unveiled in April 1919.
The triptych originally stood on an altar designed by Edwin Lutyens, a friend of Lavery, and was illuminated by two candlesticks by Lutyens. Both the altar and the candlesticks were lost during reordering works out in the 1960s and 1970s, and the frame around the triptych, decorated with Celtic knotwork, remains the only Lutyens-designed artefact in Northern Ireland.
A statue of Saint Patrick in Saint Patrick’s Church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
The church has a large collection of relics of saints, including two relics of Saint Patrick. The silver reliquary that holds the arm relic of Saint Patrick was made in the 14th century and is on loan to the Ulster Museum in Belfast.
The silver reliquary made in 1645, with the jawbone of Saint Patrick, taken from the burial site of Saint Patrick in Downpatrick in 1194, is now on loan to the Down County Museum in Downpatrick.
The church also holds a small relic of Saint Anthony of Padua.
Because of its splendour and scale, the church has been the venue for the episcopal consecrations of Bishop Henry Henry (who invited the Redemptorists to found Clonard Monastery) in 1895, his successor Bishop John Tohill in 1908 and later Bishop Daniel Mageean in 1929.
Saint Patrick’s Church celebrated its bicentenary in 2015. During the celebrations, Prince Charles, now King Charles, and his wife Camilla, then Duchess of Cornwall, visited the church in May 2015, and after a short prayer service they viewed Lavery’s work.
Saint Patrick’s School beside the church on Donegall Street was built in 1828 by the Belfast builder Timothy Hevey, father of the architect who designed the church. It was the first Catholic school built in Belfast and was built on land donated by Belfast’s principle landlord, George Chichester, 2nd Marquess of Donegall. For much of its history the school was run by the Christian Brothers and continued as a primary school until it closed in 1982.
• The Very Reverend Eugene O’Neill has been the Parish Priest of Saint Patrick’s since 2022, and previously was Administrator of Saint Patrick’s from 2016. Sunday Masses begin on Saturday with a 6 pm Vigil Mass, with Sunday Masses at 9 am, 11 am and 6 pm.
Saint Patrick’s Church was designed by the architect Timothy Hevey and was built ‘by the pennies of the poor’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2024)
18 September 2024
Daily prayer in Ordinary Time 2024:
131, Wednesday 18 September 2024
‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 32) … ‘Τα κάλαντα’ (‘Carols’), Νικηφόρος Λύτρας (Nikiphoros Lytras)
Patrick Comerford
We are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar and this week began with the Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity (15 September 2024).
Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, for reflection, prayer and reading in these ways:
1, today’s Gospel reading;
2, a reflection on the Gospel reading;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;
4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.
‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 32) … traditional musicians in Nevşehir in Turkey (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Luke 7: 31-35 (NRSVA)
[Jesus said:] 31 ‘To what then will I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? 32 They are like children sitting in the market-place and calling to one another,
“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not weep.”
33 ‘For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, “He has a demon”; 34 the Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners!” 35 Nevertheless, wisdom is vindicated by all her children.’
Imagine going to a wedding but not getting onto the floor and dancing (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Today’s Reflection:
When we were looking at the Gospel reading yesterday, which told the story of the widow of Nain grieving her son at his funeral, I said how funeral stories and the stories of children being raised to life, are not always the most cheerful Bible readings, and I recalled how that reading was particularly difficult when I was preaching one Sunday morning when I was baptising a little baby boy.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus compares ‘the people of this generation’ with children sitting in the market-place calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not weep’ (Luke 7: 31-32).
I have often stayed up late at weddings, at the receptions after funerals, and enjoying late night sporting events, especially rugby and football. Each time, in ways that were appropriate to the occasion, I have entered into the spirit of the event, and where possible, moving from being a mere spectator to being a full participant.
When we go to weddings and funerals … and as a priest I got my fair share of both … when we go to weddings and funerals, the attitude we go with makes a world of difference: do I go as a spectator or as a participant?
Imagine going to a funeral and failing to offer sympathy to those who are grieving and mourning.
Shortly after my ordination, I was asked to officiate at my first wedding. Initially, I declined the invitation to go to the reception afterwards, until someone chided me gently and asked me: are you at this wedding as a spectator or as a participant?
Perhaps, as a new curate, I was too worried about sending out the wrong signals. If I stood back, would I be reproached for not eating and drinking with the people I was there to serve (see Luke 7: 33)? If I went, would I be seen as being too interested in eating and drinking (verse 34)?
But it was never about me, surely. It was only ever about the couple getting married.
A student in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute was telling me once about her parish placement as an ordinand. Initially, she was uncomfortable with the style of worship and the theological emphasis of the parish she was placed in. But the parish reacted to her warmly and gently. And as the weeks rolled on she realised she had moved from being an observer on Sunday mornings, to being an engaged visitor, to being a participant.
When we join in waves and chants at a football match, join in the dance at weddings, sing the hymns and enter into the prayers at another church, cry and hug those who are grieving and mourning, we move from being observers and spectators to being participants. And the great opportunity for this transformation is provided Sunday after Sunday here, not at the Liturgy but in the Liturgy.
If you have been to the Middle East, or have just seen Fiddler on the Roof, you know that dancing at Jewish weddings was traditionally a male celebration. I have seen at funerals in Greece and the Eastern Mediterranean that the open mourning and weeping is usually expressed on behalf of the community by women in particular.
Indeed, we know since classical times how a man’s worth in life was once counted by the number of women crying at his funeral.
These traditions were passed on through the generations by children learning from adults and by children teaching each other.
In today’s Gospel reading, we see how Christ has noticed this in the streets and the back alleys as he moves through the towns and cities, probably in Galilee and along the Mediterranean shore.
He sees the children playing, the boys playing wedding dances, and the girls playing funeral wailing and mourning.
He notices the ways in which children can reproach each other for not joining in their playfulness:
We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not mourn. (verse 32)
Even as he speaks there is playfulness in the way Jesus phrases his observation poetically. There is humour in the way he uses Greek words that rhyme for dance and mourn at the end of each line of the children’s taunts:
Ηὐλήσαμεν ὑμῖν
καὶ οὐκ ὠρχήσασθε·
ἐθρηνήσαμεν
καὶ οὐκ ἐκλαύσατε.
Perhaps he was repeating an everyday rebuke in Greek at the time for people who stand back from what others are doing. We might put poetic rhyme on his lips here:
A wedding song we played for you,
The dance you did but scorn.
A woeful dirge we chanted too,
But then you would not mourn.
The boys playing tin whistles and beating tin drums are learning to become adult men. The girls wailing and beating their breasts in mock weeping are learning to become adult women. Each group is growing into the roles and rituals that will be expected of them when they mature.
Like all good children’s games, the point is the game, not who wins.
The games we played as children may now seem silly and pointless. But when we were children they mattered as a communal and community experience. The fun was not because there was anything to win. The fun was in taking part. And in taking part we were helped in the process of growing and maturing and making the transition from childhood to adolescence, and from adolescence to adulthood.
To and fro, back and forth, these boys and girls in the market place play the games of weddings and funerals.
The music they play shifts and changes its tones and tunes. This endless, pointless, repetition is their inherited way of learning and socialising. Their playfulness ensures their tradition and culture is reinforced and is handed on to the next generation.
But if the boys make music and the girls do not dance, if the girls wail, and the boys do not weep, how can they have a shared story, a shared adulthood, a shared culture, a shared future, a shared humanity?
When we refuse to take part in the game, in the ritual, we refuse to take part in the shaping of society, we are denying our shared culture.
When reciprocity collapses, we are denying our shared humanity.
We can become paralysed by our inability to enter into the game of others. And then the game turns from song and dance to what we might call ‘the blame game.’
It is so easy when I withdraw from the social activities of others to blame them.
Yes, there is a time for dancing and a time for mourning: each has its proper place, and they flow into each other, like the children’s game when it is working. But when vanity gets in the way, there is a breakdown in our understanding of time and of humanity.
If I stand back detached, and remain a mere observer of the joys and sorrow in the lives of others, I am not sharing in their humanity.
And in not sharing in your humanity, I am failing to acknowledge that you too are made in the image and likeness of God.
But when we rejoice with people in their joys, and when we mourn with people in their sorrows, we are putting into practice what the doctrine of the Trinity teaches us about us being not only made in the image and likeness of God individually but communally and collectively too as humanity.
The ‘Bottle Dance’ at the wedding in ‘Fiddler on the Roof’
Today’s Prayers (Wednesday 18 September 2024):
The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is ‘The 5-finger prayer from the Diocese of Kuching, Malaysia.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday in reflections as told to Rachel Weller, Communications Officer, USPG.
The USPG Prayer Diary today (Wednesday 18 September 2024) invites us to pray:
Tall Finger (enemies): Heavenly Father, I’m sorry that I find it difficult to pray for those who curse me. Knowing your forgiveness and grace, I want to change. Help me to love my neighbour as myself.
The Collect:
O Lord, we beseech you mercifully to hear the prayers
of your people who call upon you;
and grant that they may both perceive and know
what things they ought to do,
and also may have grace and power faithfully to fulfil them;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
The Post Communion Prayer:
Almighty God,
you have taught us through your Son
that love is the fulfilling of the law:
grant that we may love you with our whole heart
and our neighbours as ourselves;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Additional Collect:
Lord of creation,
whose glory is around and within us:
open our eyes to your wonders,
that we may serve you with reverence
and know your peace at our lives’ end,
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 31-32) … musicians in a poster in Corfu Restaurant, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Patrick Comerford
We are continuing in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar and this week began with the Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity (15 September 2024).
Before today begins, I am taking some quiet time this morning to give thanks, for reflection, prayer and reading in these ways:
1, today’s Gospel reading;
2, a reflection on the Gospel reading;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary;
4, the Collects and Post-Communion prayer of the day.
‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 32) … traditional musicians in Nevşehir in Turkey (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Luke 7: 31-35 (NRSVA)
[Jesus said:] 31 ‘To what then will I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? 32 They are like children sitting in the market-place and calling to one another,
“We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not weep.”
33 ‘For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, “He has a demon”; 34 the Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners!” 35 Nevertheless, wisdom is vindicated by all her children.’
Imagine going to a wedding but not getting onto the floor and dancing (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Today’s Reflection:
When we were looking at the Gospel reading yesterday, which told the story of the widow of Nain grieving her son at his funeral, I said how funeral stories and the stories of children being raised to life, are not always the most cheerful Bible readings, and I recalled how that reading was particularly difficult when I was preaching one Sunday morning when I was baptising a little baby boy.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus compares ‘the people of this generation’ with children sitting in the market-place calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not weep’ (Luke 7: 31-32).
I have often stayed up late at weddings, at the receptions after funerals, and enjoying late night sporting events, especially rugby and football. Each time, in ways that were appropriate to the occasion, I have entered into the spirit of the event, and where possible, moving from being a mere spectator to being a full participant.
When we go to weddings and funerals … and as a priest I got my fair share of both … when we go to weddings and funerals, the attitude we go with makes a world of difference: do I go as a spectator or as a participant?
Imagine going to a funeral and failing to offer sympathy to those who are grieving and mourning.
Shortly after my ordination, I was asked to officiate at my first wedding. Initially, I declined the invitation to go to the reception afterwards, until someone chided me gently and asked me: are you at this wedding as a spectator or as a participant?
Perhaps, as a new curate, I was too worried about sending out the wrong signals. If I stood back, would I be reproached for not eating and drinking with the people I was there to serve (see Luke 7: 33)? If I went, would I be seen as being too interested in eating and drinking (verse 34)?
But it was never about me, surely. It was only ever about the couple getting married.
A student in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute was telling me once about her parish placement as an ordinand. Initially, she was uncomfortable with the style of worship and the theological emphasis of the parish she was placed in. But the parish reacted to her warmly and gently. And as the weeks rolled on she realised she had moved from being an observer on Sunday mornings, to being an engaged visitor, to being a participant.
When we join in waves and chants at a football match, join in the dance at weddings, sing the hymns and enter into the prayers at another church, cry and hug those who are grieving and mourning, we move from being observers and spectators to being participants. And the great opportunity for this transformation is provided Sunday after Sunday here, not at the Liturgy but in the Liturgy.
If you have been to the Middle East, or have just seen Fiddler on the Roof, you know that dancing at Jewish weddings was traditionally a male celebration. I have seen at funerals in Greece and the Eastern Mediterranean that the open mourning and weeping is usually expressed on behalf of the community by women in particular.
Indeed, we know since classical times how a man’s worth in life was once counted by the number of women crying at his funeral.
These traditions were passed on through the generations by children learning from adults and by children teaching each other.
In today’s Gospel reading, we see how Christ has noticed this in the streets and the back alleys as he moves through the towns and cities, probably in Galilee and along the Mediterranean shore.
He sees the children playing, the boys playing wedding dances, and the girls playing funeral wailing and mourning.
He notices the ways in which children can reproach each other for not joining in their playfulness:
We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not mourn. (verse 32)
Even as he speaks there is playfulness in the way Jesus phrases his observation poetically. There is humour in the way he uses Greek words that rhyme for dance and mourn at the end of each line of the children’s taunts:
Ηὐλήσαμεν ὑμῖν
καὶ οὐκ ὠρχήσασθε·
ἐθρηνήσαμεν
καὶ οὐκ ἐκλαύσατε.
Perhaps he was repeating an everyday rebuke in Greek at the time for people who stand back from what others are doing. We might put poetic rhyme on his lips here:
A wedding song we played for you,
The dance you did but scorn.
A woeful dirge we chanted too,
But then you would not mourn.
The boys playing tin whistles and beating tin drums are learning to become adult men. The girls wailing and beating their breasts in mock weeping are learning to become adult women. Each group is growing into the roles and rituals that will be expected of them when they mature.
Like all good children’s games, the point is the game, not who wins.
The games we played as children may now seem silly and pointless. But when we were children they mattered as a communal and community experience. The fun was not because there was anything to win. The fun was in taking part. And in taking part we were helped in the process of growing and maturing and making the transition from childhood to adolescence, and from adolescence to adulthood.
To and fro, back and forth, these boys and girls in the market place play the games of weddings and funerals.
The music they play shifts and changes its tones and tunes. This endless, pointless, repetition is their inherited way of learning and socialising. Their playfulness ensures their tradition and culture is reinforced and is handed on to the next generation.
But if the boys make music and the girls do not dance, if the girls wail, and the boys do not weep, how can they have a shared story, a shared adulthood, a shared culture, a shared future, a shared humanity?
When we refuse to take part in the game, in the ritual, we refuse to take part in the shaping of society, we are denying our shared culture.
When reciprocity collapses, we are denying our shared humanity.
We can become paralysed by our inability to enter into the game of others. And then the game turns from song and dance to what we might call ‘the blame game.’
It is so easy when I withdraw from the social activities of others to blame them.
Yes, there is a time for dancing and a time for mourning: each has its proper place, and they flow into each other, like the children’s game when it is working. But when vanity gets in the way, there is a breakdown in our understanding of time and of humanity.
If I stand back detached, and remain a mere observer of the joys and sorrow in the lives of others, I am not sharing in their humanity.
And in not sharing in your humanity, I am failing to acknowledge that you too are made in the image and likeness of God.
But when we rejoice with people in their joys, and when we mourn with people in their sorrows, we are putting into practice what the doctrine of the Trinity teaches us about us being not only made in the image and likeness of God individually but communally and collectively too as humanity.
The ‘Bottle Dance’ at the wedding in ‘Fiddler on the Roof’
Today’s Prayers (Wednesday 18 September 2024):
The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is ‘The 5-finger prayer from the Diocese of Kuching, Malaysia.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday in reflections as told to Rachel Weller, Communications Officer, USPG.
The USPG Prayer Diary today (Wednesday 18 September 2024) invites us to pray:
Tall Finger (enemies): Heavenly Father, I’m sorry that I find it difficult to pray for those who curse me. Knowing your forgiveness and grace, I want to change. Help me to love my neighbour as myself.
The Collect:
O Lord, we beseech you mercifully to hear the prayers
of your people who call upon you;
and grant that they may both perceive and know
what things they ought to do,
and also may have grace and power faithfully to fulfil them;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
The Post Communion Prayer:
Almighty God,
you have taught us through your Son
that love is the fulfilling of the law:
grant that we may love you with our whole heart
and our neighbours as ourselves;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Additional Collect:
Lord of creation,
whose glory is around and within us:
open our eyes to your wonders,
that we may serve you with reverence
and know your peace at our lives’ end,
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn’ (Luke 7: 31-32) … musicians in a poster in Corfu Restaurant, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
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