Sounds of the gathering storm

This will be my last post for a bit.  I shall be on holiday soon and cannot say when I shall be able to post. I am also saddened and frustrated and more than a bit worn down by all the sound and fury.

On one hand, I hear the thundering of the prelates of an ancient church beating the shabby tattoo of tired doctrine in a desperate attempt to rally the faithful, their thrumming so out of step with the tempo of the day.

Echoing back is the rattling of sabres and ever-growing calls to action against this approaching cloudwall of intolerance and hatred, these very cries filled to the brim with vitriol and stinging rebuke from a cadre of those who do not pass muster in the church's army.

Between these two can be heard the shuffling of feet as the confused faithful quietly flee from the burgeoning tempest,  the bleating of  skittish sheep who have been told to be quiet as their betters dice for the flock and the howls of wolves who rapine the land while the shepherds stand by, afraid of being bitten let alone laying down their lives for those in their charge.

Most of all, to me, I hear the silence of those poor lost lambs who the shepherds led to slaughter.  I hear the parents who have lost their children, their soft sobs writ large against the stunning reticence of Mother Church who has abandoned her children.  I hear the light patter, a rain of tears from the saints who weep over the gravely ill Body of Christ for which they have freely lived and died.

In the midst of this cacophony of clamor and calamity, surrounded by a whirlwind of dread and doubt, there is a whisper which no-one seems to hear, a still, small Voice which comes from nowhere and everywhere.

"Have faith, my child.  I shall not abandon you."

There are days when it is so very hard, beloved Father, but your Son gave all for others, even for me.  How can I do any less?

May our Lord bless and keep us all.