Soundproofing a Confessional

One of my churches has a confessional door which isn’t great at protecting the privacy of the person inside. The door is made of wood-like material with two frosted glass panels in the upper half. The frosting is too thick to allow the penitent to be ‘seen’ for safeguarding reasons so there’s no reason I can’t cover it with some sort of panel. So what are my options?

First, I need to consider the edges of the door. Sound will travel around the sides as well as through the body of the door, so the edges need to be sealed as well as possible.

Next, the outside of the door can be covered with sound absorbing material. For aesthetic reasons, this will need to be fixed flush to the door and look good.

Finally, the inside surface also needs to be covered, but here I have the option of material that can hang loosely and by covered by a curtain.

Edges

Let’s start with this site which is trying to sell soundproof windows but rates different DIY solutions by cost, difficulty and effectiveness. For the bottom of the door it suggests an acoustic door sweep – rather like a draught excluder but made of materials designed to insulate sound. For the edges, the sides and top of the doorframe (the jambs) can be lined with weatherstripping or acoustic gaskets.

Another UK company does offer solutions to soundproof a door, a DIY kit for £69.95+VAT (+£15 shipping to my South Wales church) or one that needs a joiner to install a better seal, but for the same price. The kit includes an acoustic door sweep and three strips for the jambs. I’ve decided to go for the DIY kit.

Outside

Our first helpful site gives a poor rating to fixing acoustic plasterboard, a modest rating to hanging acoustic blankets over the door, and a good rating to hanging limp mass-loaded vinyl, especially when it is not fixed directly to the door.

What’s available for a good aesthetic look on the outside? The thickest iKoustic panel is £119.99+VAT. The data sheet says it can be cut – so this isn’t fibre covering a panel, it’s a panel made of fibre all the way through. Happily, it’s available in white to match my door.

Inside

For my inside door, I’ll consider effectiveness over aesthetics. What about hanging a sheet of mass-loaded vinyl (MLV) and covering this with a curtain? The cheapest option on search seems to be this from Builders’ Merchant Direct, the thickest kind (4mm) for a 1.22 m square is £19.83 + VAT but when shipping is added, that’s an extra £75!

Thinner MLV is available on Amazon, but the advice says it is most effective when sandwiched between two layers of acoustic plasterboard.

So for now I think I’ll get another iKoustic panel for the inside. If this proves insufficient I can always try the MLV later and cover the reworking with a curtain, but the general wisdom seems to be that sealing the edges of the door is the most crucial step anyway.

The Regent of the King

Who could ever know the mind of the Lord?

Peter could!

When St Paul wrote to the Romans about how great God is, he stressed that none of us can ever think the way God thinks. But we can know God’s thoughts – if God tells us what He is thinking. This is precisely why in Jesus, the Word became flesh and walked among us. Through Jesus, we know God’s thoughts. And sometimes God speaks to us, mind-to-mind, as the Father did to Simon, who became Peter, in today’s Gospel. Jesus acknowledges that His Father had given a revelation. But lest Simon become too proud, in next week’s Gospel we will hear how he was immediately tempted by Satan.

We don’t have Jesus walking among us in human form today, to teach us or to affirm that the Father has spoken. We do have Jesus’ promise that his Church would be secure on the rock of Peter. Over the years, we have come to understand that the ‘rock of Peter’ is the Bishop of Rome, who succeeds Peter in leading the Church from that great city. But how, exactly, does God work through the Pope in Rome?

We get one clue from Jesus’ teaching later in Matthew’s Gospel, where he tells his disciples to follow the teaching of the Pharisees, who ‘sit in the chair of Moses’, but not to imitate their hypocritical lifestyle. It is the formal teaching, not the lived example, which matters. In the history of the Church we have had popes who have been canonised as saints, and others, such as several from the Borgia family, who brought the Catholic Church into disrepute. This shouldn’t surprise us; one of the Twelve Apostles betrayed Our Lord and all except St John showed their weakness when put to the test. Nevertheless, it pleases the Lord to share his authority with fallible humans, from the stewardship of Shebna and Eliakim in the Old Testament, through the Apostles, to the Popes who serve our church from age to age.

When it comes to the Pope today, we must distinguish three things the Pope can put forth: formal teachings, policy decisions and personal opinions.

Just like any other Catholic, Pope Francis holds personal opinions on certain topics, and we sometimes get insight into these when he makes an off-the-cuff comment in a press conference or in one of his daily homilies. When these don’t reflect teachings which have already been given at a more official level, we are free to respectfully disagree.

At the other end of the spectrum there are dogmatic teachings. These are given in the form of official documents released by the Pope using a certain form of words. Very occasionally, a Pope may use his God-given authority to declare a teaching certain and binding on all Catholics. This was done in 1950 when Pope Pius XII declared it sure that Our Blessed Lady was assumed into heaven. John Paul II used similar language in 1995, declaring that abortion and euthanasia were against God’s will in all circumstances.

Most of the Pope’s teachings, and the other formal documents from the Vatican, fall somewhere in between. It might be helpful to think of the way the British Government works. Cabinet Ministers are appointed, and in the secrecy of a Cabinet Meeting they can propose or criticise particular policies. But once a policy is made official, the ministers are bound by ‘collective responsibility’. Then they are obliged to defend that policy, even if they personally have reservations. In the same way, most official Catholic documents are not infallible, but we are asked to give our church leaders the benefit of the doubt. We should act on the assumption that the policies represent God’s will for the Church, and if we have doubts, to make our objections known privately to those with the power to make changes.

Pope Francis has done something novel in recent years – started the largest-ever listening exercise in the history of the Catholic Church. This will culminate in the great Synod meeting in Rome next year. There’s nothing new in the idea that God speaks through the members of the church. St John Henry Newman wrote a book in 1859 https://www.newmanreader.org/works/rambler/consulting.html On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine. And to be sure, the formal teaching of the Church does evolve. Sometimes, as with the Assumption of Our Lady, this is to clarify something which has been believed, but not officially stated, since the beginning of the Church. In other cases, such as taking a position on weapons of mass destruction or in-vitro fertilisation, it’s to apply timeless moral principles to new challenges raised by today’s technology. But wherever the Church seeks the voice of the Holy Spirit, whether in the collective opinion of the world’s Catholics or the ancient wisdom of other religions, the test is always the same.

“Which of the things that we have heard are consistent with the message of Jesus, as we have received it in Scripture and in the 2,000 year old Tradition of the Church?” As the Bible itself says, we should test everything and hold on to what is good. When we listen to the voice of the people today, we will hear both the subtle whisper of the Holy Spirit, and the competing voice of the world in which we live. The task of the Synod will be to draw out the voice of the Spirit, while noting the ways in which the Church needs to re-present the teaching of Jesus in the face of the seductive voice of the world around us. Above all the Church must speak of the true meaning of love – for love is not following your feelings, but the choice to put God’s will first, the most vulnerable people next, and our own needs at the end of the line.

So if you disagree with any of the Pope’s official policies, feel free to write and tell him. But until you’ve taken the time to research the matter, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. The Church can only have one centre of unity on earth, and that’s not me, and it’s not you. Only one man bears heavy burden of bringing unity to Christ’s very diverse body on Earth, so let’s pray daily for the successor of Peter, the Bishop of Rome.

The Borders of the Kingdom

Homily at the Pastorate of Our Lady of the Valleys for the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A.

What’s going on in today’s Gospel? Why is Our Lord so reluctant to help this woman in need?

Sometimes the place-names in the Gospel mean very little to us, but they tell a lot of the story. So let me give you the story again, imagining that Jesus was sent not to Jewish people, but to the Welsh.

Jesus and his boys had just finished a long week preaching and healing in Wrexham, and they decided to go to Liverpool for some downtime. But as they were on their way there, a Yorkshire woman found them and stopped them, crying out for Jesus to heal her daughter.

There was a long pause. Jesus did nothing. His disciples seemed unsure what to do. Then one of them said, ‘Jesus, are you going to deal with this?’

Jesus turned to the woman, and said ‘Look, butt, My mission is to bring good news to the people of Wales. I can’t come all the way to see your girl.’

But she gave as good as she got. ‘Is that right, boyo? I don’t need you to come home with me. I just need you to use some of that power God has given you to do the right thing, and it won’t take you out of your way at all.’

She got her miracle.

This wasn’t the first time Jesus had been talked into working a miracle in a place he didn’t feel ready for – it also happened at the wedding in Cana, when his Blessed Mother pointed out that the wine had run out. Christ our King was humble enough to change his mind.

The lesson for us is that sometimes we’re called upon to help people, not because we’ve planned to go and volunteer for a good cause, but because someone in need has found their way to us. This challenges us both in our own actions, and in our political choices. It can take us a while to make adjustments. And this forces us to ask whether we ever play favourites?

At first sight, today’s Gospel seems to agree that not all people in need deserve God’s help. “Sorry, you’re not Jewish” said Our Lord – “I was sent to the lost sheep of Israel.” But in the end, Jesus changes his agenda, rather than denying the woman her miracle.

Why, then, did Our Lord play “hard to get”? Perhaps because he wanted us to reflect on our own agendas, our own unwillingness to help the people we haven’t planned to.

If Jesus can change his mind, so can you.

Do we ever fall into the trap of dividing human beings into “deserving” and “undeserving”?

Our Government seems to do that a lot with foreigners who come asking for our help.

Are you fleeing the war in Ukraine? Welcome to the UK.

Are you worried about Chinese oppression in Hong Kong? Have a British passport.

Did you help translate for the British Army in Afghanistan? Two years ago you were welcome in the UK, but now we’re suddenly giving notice that you have to leave the accommodation we’ve provided for you, whether or not you’ve been able to find your own place to live.

But perhaps you just come from a country where it’s hard to make a living, and you’d rather join your relatives who are already in Britain. Tough. We’re not going to make it easy for you to reach our country; and if you dare to turn up and say “asylum” we’re going to send you to Rwanda.

Our Government makes no secret of its desire to make Britain a “hostile environment” for many migrants. So yes, today I am using this pulpit to make a political point. The Catholic Church tries not to pick sides in party politics, but it does pick the side of oppressed people when a Government of any political colour turns against them. Regarding immigration, our bishops have set out their position clearly in a document called Love the Stranger, which I commend to you.

What can we do, here in South Wales, far from the halls of Government?

First, look out for unexpected opportunities to help strangers.

Second, take note of any hardness in your own heart. Who, for you, are the undeserving poor? What would Jesus do if they asked him for help? Be like Jesus.

Third, change the conversation. If you find yourself drawn into a discussion of what the Government should do about immigration in general and the “small boats” crossing the Channel in particular, bring a different perspective. Mention that these are human beings with the same desires to get on in life as ourselves – people who may already have family in Britain. It takes time to recognise the needs of someone we don’t instinctively want to help, just as it took time for Jesus to come to meet the needs of this foreign woman. I’m not saying we must provide bottomless help. I am saying that when we put limits on the help we offer, we should do so from a place of sympathy, not enmity.

There’s another way we might divide people into two categories without realising it. There are people who worship in our church, and people who don’t. Which of those groups is more important to us?

St Paul knew he was being sent to outsiders – in what he wrote today he spoke about his mission to the pagans, people who had never known the Jewish religion. The prophet Isaiah, too, shared his powerful vision of all peoples, not just the Jewish people, worshipping in God’s Temple.

By a strange coincidence, “Temple” was also the name of an Anglican Archbishop, who worked hard for the protection of Jews during World War II. His most famous quote is probably this:

“The Church is the only society that exists for the benefit of those who are not its members.”

But he also said this: “The most influential of all educational factors is the conversation in a child’s home.”

Change your heart. Change the conversation. Change this church – and so change our world for the better. Be like Jesus, for the change begins with you.

The Joyful Kingdom

Homily at the Pastorate of Our Lady of the Valleys for the Feast of the Transfiguration, Year A.

Today, I’d like to speak about two ways of being religious.

There’s a religion where you can be afraid of God. He’s very unreasonable. He expects you to be at church every Sunday. If it snows or you catch flu, you have to apologise or God will be angry. This God isn’t very keen on marriage, either. He allows people to get married and have children, but he’d really rather people didn’t because it’s all a bit gross.

There’s another religion which is all about love. The people go to worship every Sunday because they are grateful for all God’s gifts and want to say “thank you”. If something beyond their control stops them going, they do feel sad, but they know God understands, and will be delighted to see them next week. At the same time, they know that they’re free to choose to serve God or not. But if they make a free choice to put God in second place and do something else, they experience true guilt. God will forgive them – but he does warn them that one day their life will end, and if it ends with them not having chosen God, there will be consequences.

This second religion is also very positive about marriage. It sees marriage as a sacrament, which makes a marriage bed an altar where holy things happen. When God joins a man and a woman in holy matrimony, his blessings will be present whenever they celebrate their love.

What got me thinking about these two religions? Last week I heard an obituary for the singer Sinead O’Connor. It sounds like the first religion was the one she experienced growing up in Ireland. In her words: “I was living in a Catholic theocracy … but … I didn’t soak up any of the negativity of Catholicism, there was nothing joyous about it, I was able to see through the smoke.”

Sinead’s spiritual journey took her first to joining a breakaway Catholic group, and later to becoming a Muslim. Whatever she believed she could see through the smoke, in my spiritual journey, I saw something different. I discovered joyful Catholicism. That’s the one Pope Francis enjoys too. But he knows the dangers of the first kind. In both his formal documents and informal speeches, he warns us not to be Christians with vinegar faces!

Sinead O’Connor was right about one thing: Catholicism is a theocracy. We are ruled by God. In today’s Gospel, through the eyes of Peter, James and John, we share a glimpse of Jesus in his full royal majesty. And it strikes me that the Transfiguration of Jesus is rather like the Coronation of King Charles III: it didn’t have to happen, but it helps us understand who this person is.

Charles became King at the very moment Queen Elizabeth II died. No ceremony or proclamation was needed. He was the heir to the throne; he became King. So why did we bother having a Coronation, with all that pomp and fanfare and a bank holiday, back in May? It was to celebrate what had happened and to give us a shared moment in our national memory. One image which struck me that weekend was the King wearing robes of purple silk and holding the orb and sceptre symbolising his reign. We will never see Charles do this again – once is enough. The symbol and the memory serve to underline the enduring fact that Charles is King.

It seems to me that Our Lord gave us the Transfiguration for the very same reasons – we need a once-and-forever glimpse of who he is to understand that he is our King, reigning over us from heaven, seated at the right hand of God-the-Father. Unlike a President, we cannot choose a King. Rather, like the person who stumbles over a treasure in a field, we discover, though faith, that Christ is King, Jesus is Lord, and we are given a simple choice – to live our lives as friends of the King or objectors to his reign.

One of our reasons to be joyful is that we are friends of the King! Peter, James and John found the Transfiguration a joyful experience, so much so that they wanted to build tents and stay there. Later, at the Last Supper, Jesus says to his 12 chosen ones, “I do not call you servants, but friends.”

To be a friend of the King gives you the right to speak your mind. In her recorded interview, Sinead O’Connor went on to speak of the character Tevye, in Fiddler on the Roof, whose prayers mostly consisted of complaints addressed to the Almighty. I wonder if she ever learned that the great St Teresa of Avila, Doctor of the Church, was also famous for the way she prayed her dissatisfactions to God? A story tells of the day when the saint’s saddle broke, causing her to fall off her donkey and into a stream. Being a woman of prayer, she complained to the Almighty. God said to her: “This is how I treat all my friends.” Teresa answered, “And that’s why you have so few of them!”

We are friends of the King, gathered at his royal banquet to be fed by the richest fare he can offer us, his own Body and Blood. Through Holy Communion we receive forgiveness of our lesser sins and fresh grace to face the week ahead. He does not promise us freedom from trials; Peter, James and John would later share his grief in the Garden of Gethsemane. But we are sent out into the world as friends of the King, loved by the King and called to bring new faces into the Kingdom. We go not to invite anyone to a joyless Catholicism which holds only guilt and shame. We proclaim a joyful faith, where we will share his trials and so enter into his glory! Long live the King!