Lightly Burdened

"A seven year old boy terrified by the sight of the incoming
tsunami waves was saved by his pet dog, it emerged today.
The boy's mother Sangeeta said her brother-in-law had given
her the dog as a puppy, following the birth of her second son.
When the brother-in-law died in an accident two years ago,
they named the dog after him. Sangeeta said she believed some
special spirit, perhaps her brother-in-law's, lived in the yellow
hound. 'That dog is my God,' she said." -- the Sun

So it's the New Year, another 365 days closer to the Apocalpyse. Sometimes, whilst busy living, I am struck by the thought that the very act of existence brings me day by day closer to my death. It's quite a paradox that by sleeping and waking we are crossing off days on the great wallplanner in the sky to reach our unavoidable circled fate. Yesterday, having some time to kill, I popped into Brompton Oratory to finish it off. I love that church so much, it is a beautiful building and contains such a profound peacefulness. A Father was in the middle of the Homily, and an Oratory Homily has got to be one of the best around. Every sentence is like a pearl of wisdom, asking to be unwrapped and examined from every angle. Yesterday the father spoke on God being revealed as both truth and beauty; that there is such deep beauty in the truth, and such truth to be found in beauty. There is an immeasurable ugliness in the world, for example a wave wiping out hundreds of thousands of people, but there is also a lot of light. It seems to me that a lot of so-called 'Christianity' is afraid, or over-protective, of their 'truth'. I might be wrong here, I often am, but if it's the actual truth then why are we so concerned about proving it? It's proved itself because it's the truth! Sometimes I wake up, and I have no way to cope; depression, oppression and repression is all around, the world is unfathomable in it's darkness and suffering. To quote the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, 'It should shake our faith in God'. But always, I am forced to come back, to realise, no matter how absurd it should seem, that there is something bigger.