Pause for Prayer

Within less than three minutes, three motor cyclists passed me by, intent on their mission. Each had an A-Z map of central London fastened to the windshield of their motorbike.  Each man was concerned with one issue only at that moment: ‘taking the knowledge’. Each was a trainee cabbie.

It takes far more than an ability to sit behind a steering wheel in order to become a taxi driver in London. That is how the expression ‘taking the knowledge’ came to birth.

As a trainee cabbie told me, some years ago, “We have to know at least three hundred routes through London, the shortest distances between any major pick-up and put-down points, be examined by the police and know enough about the important sights of the city to act as a tour guide.”

He continued. “Most of us take six months off work, if possible, so that we can ‘take the knowledge’, which is what we call our training to be a cabbie. The police can examine us on any route and so the only way to learn is to buy a motorcycle and a copy of the A-Z.”

“It’s not easy learning to be a tour guide in order to drive one of the traditional London black cabs. A friend of mine failed his exam just because he could not remember the name of the stone of which Waterloo Bridge is made. It is the sort of question a tourist might ask because they have heard that Portland Stone is self-cleaning in the rain.”

Perhaps that is the reason why, in his house, stuck firmly and conspicuously over the fireplace, at least for his training period, the cabbie had fastened a super-large map of central London. His patient wife agreed to the unusual decoration only because of the long-term benefits that would appear in days to come.

Another taxi driver had his own comments to add. “They test my cab every six months. It has to be in perfect condition to go out and to carry passengers. Even if there is a tiny tear in the seat covering, the car is taken off the road, so it pays me in the long run to make sure that I look after the vehicle.”

It is a very different situation in many other places in the world.

On the one occasion that, in desperation, I took a taxi in Zambia, I had to sit on the metal edge of the seat because there was no padding left. A gaping hole indicated where, once upon a time, there had been something that was vaguely red in colour. Also, my whole journey was one of prayer… for my survival. It seemed as though I had found one of the many taxi drivers who was not only working without a licence to operate a taxi, but also had no driving licence! The ten-minute journey was terrifying!  It was also expensive as the fare increased threefold as soon as he saw the front gate of the convent.

…and in Rome? There is a sliding scale of charges depending on the individual’s ecclesiastical or tourist status. The more there is the likelihood of purple or scarlet robes, or of being an unseasoned, well-meaning tourist (preferably American), then the higher the charge. If the cab has a meter, then the longer route will be taken so that, of course, the fee is perfectly justified. Why would anybody want a 5-minute journey when there is the possibility of one that takes 25 minutes, touring places that perhaps even God did not know existed?

In this country, it is so easy to take for granted the existence of certain jobs.

We see taxis around our towns and cities and perhaps never think of the amount of effort necessary to obtain that precious piece of paper that is the licence. It is easy to miss the background work that goes to ensure that passengers are safe and comfortable.

Taking that one step further, how often do we think of the grocers, greengrocers, refuse collectors, street cleaners, Post Office workers, farmers etc, who make it possible for us to live our daily lives in at least some degree of comfort and convenience?

We might forget them or take them for granted… but God doesn’t. Wouldn’t it be easy to occasionally take a leaf out of his book? Wouldn’t that be taking a different sort of knowledge?

“The place of the possible” That might well describe Rome, especially where the roots of Christianity are concerned.  All that is needed is a basic knowledge of the way in which human beings function in ordinary daily life.

For instance, if Peter and Paul were together in Rome for a period of time, it is perfectly possible that, at some stage, they said goodbye to each other.  It is equally possible that they were escorted by at least one of their early companions.  It is equally possible, because it’s the way in which our minds function, that the early Church remembered the exact spot at which the two men parted and also that it was the last time that they were together before their capture and execution.  It is, therefore, not impossible that, when it was safe to do so, a small memorial of that event was put in place to remind people, including those of future generations, that ‘this place is special, and here’s why’.

That is why, walking home one evening and thinking of nothing in particular, I was brought to a sudden halt.  The stone plaque on the wall, too distant to be seen clearly from the bus, even in a traffic jam, commemorated that very goodbye! Apparently there had originally even been a small church on the same site, long since replaced by modern and extremely ugly industrial buildings.  Yet, in that small plaque, Peter and Paul embraced each other for the last time, on the very spot at which their paths diverged.

What was it like?  Did they know that they wouldn’t see each other again?  Were they scared, even though they knew that they were walking in the same steps as Jesus of Nazareth?  Did Paul know that he was almost exactly, to the very yard, at the mid-point of two of his future significant locations? One was the start of his chained journey to the Via Appia and subsequent execution at the spot now known as Tre Fontane.  The other was his burial site, then the ordinary cemetery on the Via Ostiense and now marked by the magnificent basilica of St. Paul’s outside-the-walls.

When Peter and Paul said goodbye to each other, which road did they take?  Did Peter travel along the Via Ostiense towards Ostia and the Christian community in that thriving seaside port, or did he take some other route?

Did Paul retrace his steps back into the city, along the Via Mamorata and Lungotevere, bypassing the Forum and the Coliseum? Presumably he passed through the city gate, now known as the Porta San Paolo because of its associations with him.  What were his thoughts as he walked?  He must have known that the tide was turning ever more strongly against him and the early followers of his Lord.  He knew that, sooner or later, his persistence in preaching the Gospel would create enemies strong enough to demand his execution.  As a Roman citizen, he could be beheaded and so wouldn’t suffer the appalling agony and indignity of crucifixion, but was he scared?  His faith would see him through to the end, but did he wonder whether or not the axe would hurt him, or whether death would be instantaneous?

As Paul walked past the Mamertime prison, did he remember his time (according to tradition) with Peter, incarcerated in its cold darkness, a cold so penetrating that, in one of his letters, he asked Timothy to collect his cloak and bring it along for him to use?  He wouldn’t have foreseen the huge numbers of tourists who would, in subsequent centuries, visit his cell and try to visualise themselves in his place.   He wouldn’t have known that, within a relatively short time, Peter, Simon, Jude, Barnabas, Philip, James and Matthias would also be buried in Rome and that pilgrims would visit the tombs in gratitude for the legacy left by the Apostles.

Rome.  The place of the possible.  Is it possible that, whilst filled with hope and confidence in his Risen Lord, Paul was also afraid of his own Calvary?  Wouldn’t that have been very human?  Doesn’t this make our own anxieties for the future a very normal part of life?

You have probably noticed that, over the past few months, I have had to change the frequency of the refelctions that I have been both sending as an e-mail and also putting up on my blogspots ‘Pause for Prayer’.
The reason is simple: I am doing a considerable amount of writing as part of my normal daily work for the Pontifical Mission Societies and there is a limit to the amount of writing that I can do in one day.
As a result, I have had to come to the decision to bring ‘Pause for Prayer’ to an end, although I will try to maintain the website ‘Pause and Pray’(http://pauseandpray.com) for a while longer.
I am sorry that this should be so. During the past four years, I very grateful to God for the number of people who have written to say that they have appreciated and even shared my efforts. There have been many times when I have been privileged to accompany others, even unknowingly, on their journey towards God.
There have been many times when you have taught and enriched me.
Thank you so much for all your support during the past four years.
I will continue to post prayer requests on the Pause and Pray Prayer Board and will also update ‘Monastic Meditations’.
Hopefully, from time to time, I will also update the site in other ways.
May God bless and protect you and yours,
Sr Janet

Just back from the funeral of a priest who died suddenly last week… There were 75 concelebrants plus the bishop, with several priests not concelebrating, standing amongst the congregation in a church in which even standing room was at a premium.

It seems to me that death can be a wonderful time for demonstrating an amazing degree of solidarity and faith. Death is not the end. It is only the beginning. As Bishop Brain said in his homily, “Death is a sign that God has given ‘a better offer’ than life and has taken God up on that offer, which is to spend the rest of eternity in a loving relationship with him.”

As November draws towards its close, we remember in a special way, all those who have died. May they rest in peace and may those who are left behind be filled with all the comfort and strength that they need.

God bless,

Sr Janet

Just to let you know that there will probably be no new reflections coming out until after 11th November, as I am to travel to Nigeria on Thursday 23rd October.
The Pontifical Mission Societies helps to support 194,855 schools, 5,246 hospitals, 17,530 dispensaries and 577 leprosy centres and 80,560 social and pastoral projects in the younger Church across the world.
As a result, two representatives from the Scottish office and I are to visit some of the projects in Nigeria that are supported by the people of England, Wales and Scotland.
Many of the places where we’ll be travelling will have electricity only if and when a generator is switched on, usually at night, and will have a slow Internet connection at best. As a result, although there will be the potential for many ‘traveller’s tales’, the possibility of transferring them to the outside world will be very few.
Please pray for us as we travel, that our work might be of great benefit and support to a rapidly-growing and developing Church.
God bless,
Sr Janet