Today the Right Reverend Peter Doyle, Bishop of Northampton, assisted by Bishop William Kenney CP, celebrated Mass in our Church for nearly 400 representatives of the Catholic Women’s League. The League was founded in 1906 by Margaret Fletcher, a parishioner at St Aloysius’, and this year sees the 150th anniversary of her birth in 1862.

In September 1906, at a Catholic conference held in Cavendish Square, a small group of women proposed the idea that an association of Catholic women could be formed, with the aim of giving weight to and promoting Catholic principles in English social and national life. A year later, reports of that meeting referred to those ladies as the founders of the League, but it was a Miss Margaret Fletcher who had first propounded the idea, and the group of ladies at Cavendish Square had allied themselves with her as their leader.

Margaret Fletcher, the daughter of an Anglican clergyman, was born in Oxford (in the then new suburb of Park Town) in 1862. The latter part of the 19th century was an exciting time for women. It was the age of improved educational methods, especially for girls. Oxford High School, which Margaret attended, was one of the pioneers in this field. It opened in 1873 and had two new features – no class distinction and no denominational religious instruction, so that no creed was to be at a disadvantage, except the Catholic one. Indeed, in her autobiography ‘O Call Back Yesterday’, Margaret recalls the distress and dismay shown by staff at the news that the father of one of the pupils had converted to Catholicism.

At 17, Margaret went to the Slade School of Art, but throughout her time there felt frustrated because women students were not given the same opportunities to study as were their male counterparts. She then went to Paris to continue her studies, living with other students and nationalities, discussing life, religion and politics with a growing awareness of the international dimensions involved. Margaret returned home for a while to run the family home after the death of her mother, but, all the while, inside her was building the urge to fight for improved educational opportunities for women. A deeply religious woman, Margaret could never blindly accept everything she was taught, and, when reading the writings of St John of the Cross, she decided to become a Catholic. Having sought the advice of a priest friend who sent her to the Jesuit church in Farm Street, she was received into the faith on 9th September 1897. Returning to Oxford, she took an active part in parish work and also became friendly with Mary Miller, who, having travelled widely on the continent doing research work on Catholic secondary education for girls, told Margaret how impressed she was by a newly founded Catholic organisation in Germany.

This organisation had been brought into being by the hierarchy as an alternative to the secular National Council of Women. Margaret and Mary had many discussions on the topic of education, the outcome of which was that Margaret, having obtained permission from Cardinal Bourne, launched a new quarterly called ‘The Crucible’. With the aim of arousing the interest of teachers and schools in getting better social education for women, The Crucible ran for eight years and it was in one of its last issues that the proposal for forming a league of Catholic women was made, for Margaret saw that Catholic women would have a great responsibility in the future. She saw too that they must be organised not only in England but throughout the world.

In 1906 a national Catholic conference was held in Brighton, and permission was given to distribute a pamphlet about the proposed league. From then on things moved steadily forward. Margaret Fletcher became president and Ada Streeter agreed to act as secretary. In the choice of members, Margaret Fletcher insisted that the League needed women with “balanced ommonsense”, and that they should “utilise the average woman in convincing the Catholic world that business-like methods and intellectual gifts are excellent weapons in the service of God”.

By the end of 1907, the Catholic Women’s League had held its first general meeting under the presidency of the Archbishop of Westminster, and had sent from there a message of filial homage to His Holiness Pope Pius X and received through Cardinal Merry del Val the Holy Father’s “affectionate blessing”. ‘The Tablet’ described the meeting as “deeply significant of the times, and one calculated to have far reaching consequences in the Catholic life of the country”.

The League today is still flourishing and proving to be every bit the “weapon for God” that Margaret Fletcher first envisioned.

Margaret Fletcher is still remembered by some of our older parishioners. She was apparently known as “Catty Fletcher” because of the large number of cats she owned! Miss Fletcher died in 1944. Her Requiem was held in our church and she is buried at Begbroke.

St Margaret Clitherow is the patron saint of the League:

Today we were very happy to welcome eight bishops to the High Mass, who are pilgrims from Brittany on the Newman trail.

Mass was celebrated by the Archbishop of Rennes, the Most Reverend Pierre d’Ornellas. He was accompanied by the bishops of Angers, Laval, Luçon, Nantes, Quimper, Saint-Brieuc-Tréguier and the titular bishop of Cataquas.

We were very happy to welcome Fr Michael Holman SJ to preach at the Solemn Mass for St Aloysius’ Day on 21st June. Fr Holman is the former Provincial of the British Jesuits and is now Principal of Heythrop College. Here is his homily:

Six years ago I was in Nairobi, as it turned out for little more than 24 hours. I was changing ‘planes on my way back to London from a visit to the Jesuits working in South Africa.

Fr Terry Charlton, the chaplain in Kenya to our Ignatian lay organisation, CLC, the Christian Life Community, asked if I might like to visit their new school which is dedicated to St Aloysius Gonzaga. Given my own background in secondary education, I said I would be delighted.

We travelled in his 4×4 truck to the township of Kibera on the outskirts of the city, reputed to be the largest slum district in Africa. It teemed with people living hugger-mugger in sheds made with whatever wood could be found and (if they were fortunate) a sheet of corrugated iron for a roof. Women washed clothes in a plastic bucket in the streets and crowds of young boys chased footballs made of plastic bags all crammed together and tied up with string. “How are you?” they asked and before I could answer they replied “I am very well, thank you”.

The school itself, since rebuilt, was then little more than a slum. One class led into another. Small children and larger children sat attentively in rows. Resources were very poor: a blackboard and chalk, a few exercise books and biros. The teachers were members of CLC and had taken a pay cut in order to teach these children who were, for the most part, orphans whose parents had died from AIDS.

The school was and still is inspired by the example of St Aloysius, this transparently and genuinely good young man whom we remember this evening and who died in Rome on this day in 1591 at the age of 23. He died from the plague which he contracted while nursing the sick.

Nearer to home, we have a school in Glasgow in which for over 150 years young people growing up have been entrusted to the protection, the prayers and the patronage of St Aloysius. This morning, at the mass which celebrated his feast day and concluded the school year, the students will have sung his hymn which includes the refrain “Quid est hoc, quid est hoc, ad aeterna gaudia?” “What is all this compared with the joys of eternity?”

Today and each year, those students celebrate a young man for whom the joys of this world were as nothing compared with what is promised in the life to come. The decisions Aloysius made – to enter religious life and in the process to struggle with the opposition of his father, the Marquis of Castiglione, and to renounce his birthright – were made with his eyes fixed on what mattered most. In these times when we are all, young people most especially, the object of hard sell reinforced with so many sexualised images, it is important to have a patron who helps keep our eyes fixed on what matters most and to make our daily choices accordingly.

Just this last week-end, I attended the annual meeting of the heads of Jesuit theology colleges in Europe. The meeting took place in Naples. On Sunday night we visited the seminary the Society of Jesus runs for the southern dioceses of Italy and we had supper on the terrace overlooking the city and the bay, with views over towards Mount Vesuvius and the isle of Capri. The seminary is dedicated to St Aloysius.

Liker many centres of theology these days, it gives a particular shape to the formation it offers. I see it as providing an education at depth, the kind of depth which comes about when what is learnt is integrated with how students live and in such a way that they can witness effectively to the Gospel to the people of today because they have taken the trouble to understand them.

One imagines that at this very moment on that same terrace with that incomparable view, the 90 or so students and their professors are celebrating their patron whose life displayed a similar integrity and depth as his passionate love for Christ found its expression in his whole-hearted service of some of the poorest in society.

Far from being just a plaster-caste statue or a stained glass window, therefore, St Aloysius – be it in Glasgow or Naples, Nairobi or (I am sure) here in Oxford – lives on in minds and hearts made altogether better by his patronage and his example.

As for myself, what strikes me most about St Aloysius these days? It is the challenge he issues to think seriously about holiness, to consider how our deepest longings really can be satisfied when we live in union with Christ. I have come to see that this is also the source of our apostolic effectiveness. As the previous superior general of the Jesuits, Fr Peter-Hans Kolvenbach wrote, it is “intimacy with Christ which leads naturally to the desire to share that intimacy with others”.

Aloysius is characteristically portrayed by his iconographers as wearing a cassock and surplice with the lily of innocence in one hand while gazing longingly at the crucifix he holds in the other.

For many years, to my shame, I was not much helped my these images but now I find myself more and more drawn to look again and to watch as Aloysius contemplates the figure of Christ dying on the cross. As some of us will have read in the divine office this morning, he wrote just before his death to his mother to explain how he was lost and overwhelmed in the immensity of this love, “as deep as the sea and as boundless”.

I am lost in admiration for this young man so much inspired by love. Aren’t you?

I feely confess that I would so much like to share more deeply in that love myself, to share it with others and like Aloysius to get my life in shape so that this love became the foundation of the every day decisions and choices I make. Wouldn’t you?

And I would like that love to find expression in my service of the poor so that I might understand what it means to live a life of integrity and holiness in my life as a priest and a Jesuit and so more convincingly teach others to do the same.

Father, you graced Aloysius with an overwhelming love of your Son and so made him an effective instrument of your love for those who have least. Touch us, we pray, with that some love and help us speak of that of love to others, with words, yes, but with our lives, still more. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

St Aloysius Gonzaga, pray for us.

The rain held off just long enough to enable the Blessed Sacrament to be carried in procession once again through the streets of Oxford, followed by an impressive crowd of people.

We began as usual at the Oratory:

And stopped at Blackfriars:

,

The Gospel was proclaimed:

Bishop William Kenney, C.P. preached:

The procession continued on its way:

Accompanied by the Witney Town Band:

And a megaphone:

Earth’s light and Jubilee:

Finally arriving at the University Chaplaincy for Benediction, followed by tea.

Yesterday, to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of Her Majesty the Queen, the Solemn Mass was offered for the Queen. Mozart’s Coronation Mass was sung, accompanied by instruments, and Sir Hubert Parry’s Coronation Anthem “I was Glad” was sung at the Offertory.

After Mass we joined our friends from St Giles’ Church for a splendid Jubilee Party in their church hall.

A toast was proposed to the Queen and two verses of the National Anthem were sung.

Our thanks go to the Vicar of St Giles’, the Rev. Dr Andrew Bunch, and to the St Giles’ congregation for welcoming us so warmly.

There was a competition for the best 1950s outfits, with prizes awarded.

Fr Richard had clearly made the most effort of any of the male entrants: he had borrowed some Jesuit “wings” from Campion Hall, slicked down his hair, and appeared as a 1950s Jesuit.

He won third prize.

In second place was Mrs Hannah Chegwyn:

And in first place was Miss Tessa Caldecott:

Despite the wet weather, a good time was had by all.

Sermon – 3rd June 2012

Trinity Sunday – Diamond Jubilee of Her Majesty the Queen

It was on the eve of Coronation Day that the first ever evening Mass was celebrated in this church and in other churches up and down the kingdom, as Catholics came together to pray for their new Sovereign. Sixty years on, on this Diamond Jubilee of Her Majesty the Queen, we come together again in a spirit of tremendous thanksgiving to Almighty God that our prayers have been so richly answered in a monarch who has been so steadfast and faithful, who is so public an example of a deep Christian faith and who has never wavered from the promise she made on her twenty-first birthday: “I declare before you all that my whole life whether it be long or short shall be devoted to your service”

Most of us here were born during the reign of Queen Elizabeth II, and perhaps we are so used to her dependable commitment to duty and service that we take it for granted. It is worth remembering that these virtues in rulers are comparatively rare. There have been far more Stalins, Maos and Elizabeth Tudors than there have been the likes of Edward the Confessor or Baudouin King of the Belgians. Even the greatest kings of the Old Testament were far from ideal: David famously had Uriah the Hittite killed so that he might seduce Bathsheba, and Solomon in his old age was turned away from true religion by his foreign wives and whored after strange gods. Indeed the great majority of kings in the Bible are faithless tyrants rather than true servants of God. Hence the need for us to thank God for what we have been given and to heed St Paul’s command to pray for kings and rulers and to remember that we have our own part to play in creating a Commonwealth that is just and godly. In 1947, the then Princess Elizabeth expressed this partnership thus:

“But I shall not have strength to carry out this resolution alone unless you join in it with me, as I now invite you to do: I know that your support will be unfailingly given. God help me to make good my vow, and God bless all of you who are willing to share in it.”

It is our Constitution’s foundation upon a Christian conception of monarchy that is its greatest strength and the protection of every freedom and truth that we possess. The Queen did not scheme or plot her way to the throne, she did not arrive by intrigue or personal ambition, instead she accepted a vocation chosen for her – as is expressed in the most sacred moment of the Coronation rite, when the monarch is anointed with chrism as a sign of God’s election. Our present coronation ritual derives from that devised by St Dunstan for the crowning of King Edgar at Bath in the year 973. It is a reminder to the Sovereign and to us that Christian monarchy is not so much about power as service and that the Queen too is a subject of the King of kings to whom all sovereignty and power belong.

In her first televised Christmas broadcast in 1957, our Queen spoke of the importance of having faith as the foundation of a civilized society. She spoke about:

“The trouble (that) is caused by unthinking people who carelessly throw away ageless ideals as if they were old and outworn machinery.

They would have religion thrown aside, morality in personal and public life made meaningless, honestly counted as foolishness and self-interest set up in place of self-restraint.

At this critical moment in our history we will certainly lose the trust and respect of the world if we just abandon those fundamental principles which guided the men and women who built the greatness of this country and Commonwealth.”

At the heart of our national life is not a flag, or an abstract idea or even a lofty ideal, but a human being. It is after all human beings that make up a society, and any state which becomes impersonal risks existing for its own sake rather than for its people. As we celebrate Trinity Sunday, we can see that God Himself is not a theoretical principle, but a personal being, and that for all eternity it is love continually shared between the Father and the Son in the Holy Spirit that is the ground and being of everything. Love is what gives everything meaning.

Our Queen once said:

“I cannot lead you into battle, I do not give you laws or administer justice but I can do something else, I can give you my heart and my devotion to these old islands and to all the peoples of our brotherhood of nations.”

That is what today is all about: personal devotion, loyal service, the giving of one’s heart in love. So from this Jubilee we can take something more than the enjoyment of an extra bank holiday. In the scriptures, a jubilee is an occasion to forgive debts, to free slaves, to give rest to the land. A jubilee is not only an occasion to look back but also a new beginning. Remember that each one of us too has been anointed with chrism in Baptism, that we have been given a share in Christ’s role as prophet, priest and king and that we have our own vocations to carry out faithfully. For those who are young and still discerning their future, they can resolve to turn their backs on ambition, on seeking comfort and self-interest and instead to ask the question, “What is the Lord’s will for me? How can I best serve Him and His Church?” This is the secret to real happiness. For those whose calling is already clear, we each have our own part to play in building up the kingdom of God. For married couples: they have the task of sanctifying their spouses and their children; single people: to live chastely as a sign of the reality of God’s promises; religious: to model themselves on Christ; priests: to be servants of God’s people. We may not feel that our Queen has always had the best advisors or the wisest of ministers, but if that is so, that is our own responsibility. If she has done her part, it is up to us to do ours.

Earthly kingship is only an imperfect, dim shadow of the Lord’s eternal dominion over all creation. We can begin to make our own response to the blessings that God has bestowed on us in these sixty years of stability by resolving to be true to the Lord’s calling, however costly it may be, and by renewing our prayers today for Elizabeth our Queen, that she may be granted wise counsellors, faithful parliaments, peaceful realms, devoted subjects, health and further years to reign over us, and in the world to come, everlasting life. God save the Queen.

Monsignor Marcus Stock, General Secretary of the Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales, came to preach at the Solemn Mass on St Philip’s Day. Below is his homily, in which he describes how in the summer of 1990, a few days before the arrival of the first Fathers of the Oratory, he discovered two long forgotten treasures: a cast of St Philip’s death mask and St Philip’s own copy of Blessed Jacopone da Todi’s Laude.

I feel a keen affinity with the Oxford Oratory, for in the summer of 1990, for a couple weeks, I had the privilege of living here to celebrate Mass and provide pastoral care to the parish until the first Oratorian Fathers for the new community arrived. A day or two before I left, I was wandering around the church and found myself in the chapel on the right as you enter at the far end of the church which contained the font and reliquary cupboards. The shelves of the upper cupboards were clearly empty and most of the lower cupboards. But one of the lower ones was locked. I must confess that my curiosity got the better of me and, with a little knowledge gained from a youth ill-spent, I picked the lock and opened the cupboard.

Inside the cupboard there were two main objects both within glass containers. One object had a glass dome covered in dust which obscured the object within. The other was a rectangular glass-sided reliquary which contained, what looked like, a very old book.

I cleaned off the dust from the first object with the glass dome – and what greeted my eyes both startled and amazed me. For looking out at me was the unmistakable face of St Philip Neri. It was a copy of his death mask. I recognized it straight away from the ones that are on his effigy, containing his relics, in the chapels dedicated to him in both the Chiesa Nuova in Rome and the Birmingham Oratory.

The second object I will come back to later!

Four hundred and sixty-eight years ago, on the eve of Pentecost in 1544, at the age of 29, Philip Neri a devout young layman who had moved from his home in Florence to work first for a relative near Monte Cassino and then as tutor in Rome, was praying in the Catacombs of Saint Sebastian, on the Via Appia.

I am sure that many of you will already know, from your knowledge of the life of St Philip, of the remarkable event that took place on that occasion. During his prayer, St Philip had a vision of a globe of fire which entered his mouth, and descended into his heart. This spiritual ecstasy was accompanied by the physical expansion of his heart and he experienced a feeling of overwhelming joy.

By providence, today, as well as celebrating the Feast Day of St Philip, we are also on the eve day of Pentecost.

It was in the silence and stillness of prayer that the Heart of God spoke to the heart of St Philip. Cor ad cor loquitor, ‘heart speaks to heart’, an experience that another, future, great and holy man of the Church, Blessed John Henry Newman, was to discover too as the source of his joy. It is to St Philip’s experience of spiritual joy, as the fruit of Pentecost, to which I would like us to turn our thoughts and devotion this morning.

In the first reading of our Mass today, St Paul sets before the Philippians one of the great, but perhaps too infrequently expressed, gifts of the Holy Spirit and qualities of the Christian life:

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let all men know your forbearance. The Lord is at hand. Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

When St Paul wrote these words he was in prison in Rome and would have been aware that he was almost certainly facing the possibility of execution. Similarly, he knew that those Christians in Philippi faced all kinds of dangers and persecutions as they set out on their journey of faith. But Paul still proclaims, with words that flow out of his own heart – Rejoice!

St Paul was teaching the Philippians, and us, that Christian joy is not dependent upon the immediate and ever changing circumstances of our lives but on the continual presence of Christ dwelling in our souls and living in our hearts. It is a joy which springs from the indwelling of Christ in the soul through the gift of the Holy Spirit. It is a joy which is nurtured in a state of mind and in an orientation of the heart.

St Paul goes on to explain how this nurturing of mind and heart is achieved:

“Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, do; and the God of peace will be with you.”

Here, St Paul is recommending more than just positive thinking. When he talks about what they have ‘received’, the precise term he uses means to accept a ‘fixed tradition’. This then is about living-out the apostolic faith which St Paul has handed on to us. By doing this, the gift of God’s love will live within us.

It is the apostolic faith which unites us to the teaching of Christ himself and through Christ unites to each other and to the knowledge and love of the Father. In the Gospel we heard Christ pray:

“Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you… I have made your name known to them and will continue to make it known, so that the love with which you loved me may be in them, and so that I may be in them.”

St Philip Neri lived out that apostolic faith and passed it on in an exemplary way. Indeed, it is the example that each Saint gives to the Church, a confirmation that the apostolic faith we have received can be a source of deep spiritual peace and joy.

As a result of St Philip Neri’s life of service, meeting the spiritual and charitable needs of many people within the Eternal City, we recall that like St Paul he too came to be called an Apostle – the ‘Apostle of Rome’. The name Apostle is apt when we also remember that what distinguished the first Apostles was that the fire of Pentecost was for them a personal experience. St Philip too received a personal experience of the Holy Spirit in the globe of fire which entered his heart and bestowed on him the gift of spiritual joy, the fruit of Pentecost.

When St Philip went to Rome he took with him some books which he had kept with him from his young days in Florence. One of these books was the Laudi, or spiritual canticles, of Blessed Jacopone de Todi.

The second object I found in that reliquary cupboard? Well it was that very book.

Living in the last half of the 13th Century, Jacopone, nicknamed ‘Crazy Jim’ in his day, was a Franciscan poet and song writer, who was known to break into song whenever he felt in distress or in trouble. Noted as St Philip was for his strange behaviour on occasions, we can well see how the spiritual canticles of Blessed Jacopone da Todi may have had a significant influence on him and why the singing of laude formed an essential part of those meetings in the Oratory built above the Church of San Girolamo della Carità, the beginning of the Congregation of the Oratory.

After finding that ancient book of Jacopone da Todi and the death mask of St Philip in the reliquary cupboards, I placed them on the altar of the church and sang that great hymn of praise to God, the Te Deum.

Knowing as I did that within a few days, the first of the Oratorian Fathers would be arriving, I wished to give thanks to Almighty God, knowing that it was His providence that would bring them here to this church and that St Philip would be here waiting to greet them.

Mindful though of the Vigil of Pentecost on this day’s eve, it is with one of ‘Crazy Jim’s’ spiritual canticles that I wish to bring our thoughts and devotion to a point of convergence as we prepare to receive Christ’s presence among and within us through the Sacrifice of the Mass. The canticle expresses well the ecstasy of spiritual joy in God’s presence, the same joy which St Paul and St Philip Neri manifested in their saintly lives and in the care of those to whom they were called to serve:

“O Love, divine Love, why do You lay siege to me?
In a frenzy of love for me, You find no rest.
From five sides You move against me,
Hearing, sight, taste, touch, and scent.
To come out is to be caught; I cannot hide from You.
If I come out through sight I see Love
Painted in every form and colour,
Inviting me to come to You, to dwell in You.
If I leave through the door of hearing,
What I hear points only to You, Lord;
I cannot escape Love through this gage.
If I come out through taste, every flavour proclaims:
“Love, divine Love, hungering Love!
You have caught me on Your hook, for you want to reign in me.”
If I leave through the door of scent
I sense You in all creation; You have caught me
And wounded me through that fragrance.
If I come out through the sense of touch
I find Your lineaments in every creature;
To try to flee from You is madness.
Love, I flee from You, afraid to give You my heart:
I see that You make me one with You,
I cease to be me and can no longer find myself.
If I see evil in a man or defect or temptation,
You fuse me with him, and make me suffer;
O Love without limits, who is it You love?
It is You, O Crucified Christ,
Who take possession of me,
Drawing me out of the sea to the shore;
There I suffer to see Your wounded heart.
Why did You endure the pain?
So that I might be healed.”

St Philip Neri….. Pray for us

On Saturday 12th May there was a performance of Julien Chilcott-Monk’s setting of Blessed John Henry Newman’s “Dream of Gerontius”. “Vox Angelica” performed the choral parts, accompanied by an exotic assortment of percussion. Robert Hardy read the part of the Soul, with Neil Nesbit playing the Guardian Angel. Newman’s poem tells the story of Gerontius, who is in his last agony and is then conveyed by his angel to judgement, before willingly being taken away to be purified in Purgatory.

One of the nineteenth century’s greatest religious works, a copy was found on the person of General Gordon at his death. The work emphasizes the justice and majesty of God, but still more His mercy in cleansing us of sin in Purgatory. Julien Chilcott-Monk’s music contains many references to Gregorian chant and brought out the passing of time, which leads us to judgement.

The performance raised over £1,000 for our “Reaffirmation and Renewal” Campaign.

Friday 4th May was the feast of the English Martyrs – those 284 beatified or canonised men and women who gave their lives for the unity of the Church and for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass during the years of persecution in England.

Here are some pictures of the Solemn Mass celebrated in honour of their feast:

Photos courtesy of the Latin Mass Society

The Very Reverend Father Felix Selden of the Vienna Oratory, Apostolic Delegate of the Holy See to the Confederation of the Oratory, conducted a canonical Visitation of our house on 1st and 2nd May 2012.

Every Congregation is usually visited once in the six year term of the Apostolic Visitor. Now that he has been to Oxford, Fr Visitor has been to all but four of the eighty-two houses of the Oratory in the world, since his election in 2006.

Father Felix has long been a friend of our community, and we were delighted to welcome him, together with Fr George Bowen of the London Oratory, who acted as Secretary to the Visitation.

Today marks the centenary of the tragic sinking of the Titanic. Among the many who lost their lives was Fr Thomas Byles, parish priest of St Helen, Chipping Ongar, Essex. The son of a Congregationalist minister in Yorkshire, Thomas Byles was received into the Church here at St Aloysius’, while he was an undergraduate at Balliol College. He was baptised “sub conditione” on 23rd May 1894 by Fr Joseph Martin SJ. Francis “Sligger” Urqhuart was his sponsor. After his priestly studies at Oscott, Ware and the Beda College, he was ordained in Rome in 1902. Initially he served at Gunnersbury, where he was one of the 5 founding members of the Catholic Missionary Society, being sent as Missioner to Ongar in 1905.

He was making the crossing to New York to celebrate the wedding of his brother William and his fiancée from Brooklyn.

A number of witnesses attest to his serenity and calmness amid the chaos- hearing confessions, giving blessings and doing what he could to comfort the terrified women and children into the lifeboats and it is said twice refused a place in the lifeboat. He was last seen gathering a group of men around him and leading them in the Rosary.

More information may be found at fatherbyles.com.