Third Order

On Wednesday evening I was blessed to be taken along to a meeting of "Third Order Franciscans" or "Tertiaries". I forget how I first heard about them, even though it was relatively recently, but my vicar lent me a book "Franciscan Spirituality" by Brother Ramon, and as I started reading it, I felt I was reading a personal letter to me. A couple of local Tertiaries visted our church to provide the music for a Taize service, and when we were introduced, I could feel a chage of electricity in the air. I was given some literature on the third order and invited along to their meeting as an "enquirer".

We met in a rural church where the vicar, Sarah, is a Tertiary. There were about 15 of us, and one of the first things I noticed was just how much laughter punctuated the conversations and chatter as we gathered together like birds on a wire. I was also briefly aware of how unselfconscious I felt. I normally find joing in with a new group of people quite a nerve-wracking time, but there was none of that here.

I won't go into detail about what happened - there's nothing secret about it, it just wouldn't serve much purpose. We sat in a circle and went through the liturgy, punctuated by silences and Taize chants. We worshipped and prayed.

Afterwards, we cleared the chairs away and were led in a couple of sacred dances. I cannot tell you how far out of my comfort zone dancing usually takes me! I simply don't dance. I felt that not taking part would be harder than joining in, though. 

When we'd done in the church we put everything back as it was, then adjourned to the church hall for tea and cakes and lots of chat.

No-one asked me "what do you do?" or any of those other socially awkward questions.

It was all very easy.

KEEPING QUIET

Keeping Quiet, a Poem by Pablo Neruda:

 

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

This one time upon the earth,
let's not speak any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.

The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.

What I want shouldn't be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.

If we weren't unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,

if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.

Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I'll go.