Tag Archives: prayer

The Fragile Heart – Tertiary Charles Ringma’s latest book

Book review – A Fragile Hope: Cultivating a Hermitage of the Heart – Charles Ringma tssf
Publisher: Cascade Books
ISBN 9781725287013
Reviewed by Terry Gatfield tssf

Charles Ringma comes as no stranger to the bookshelves of many Christians in Australia and to many in the international community. Whereas most theologians have developed one major field of enquiry Ringma has scanned, explored and developed an extensive range of theological pursuits and avenues of interest. Often these aspects have been expressed through a large range of penned semi-devotional works, amongst them Bonhoeffer, Mother Teresa, Ellul, Nouwen, Martin Luther King and Merton, as well as scholarly works which include a Commentary on Judges and Hearing the Ancient Wisdom.

To that are added a number of pastorally-related books, such as the Art of Healing Prayer and a number of books on poetry, while he is also the editor of many a collection of Christian-focused articles emanating out of Asia and Australia. His latest book, A Fragile Hope: Cultivating a Hermitage of the Heart, brings the total to twenty-seven publications. His extensive repertoire makes his latest book so interesting.

It is rare for theologians to write in the first person for good and not so good reasons. Generally, that has been a process adopted by Charles. He has the ability to skilfully abstract himself from the subject of his engagement. Self-disclosure is only rarely seen at the margins, if at all, in his previous works. Yet, his latest book is substantively different.


A Fragile Hope takes us on his personal journey of reflection and review following a 6-month sabbatical in a Hermitage. It is a very unusual book that highlights the big theological and social questions of the day though in a very tight and concise format. In particular, these are issues that relate to his life journey and, more specifically, to his struggles and engagement with the dilemmas of the contemporary socio-political-economic and religious western world of a Christian who desires to walk in the footsteps of Christ while maintaining faithfulness to the scriptures. It deals also with the big deep questions of how he must live and the tensions and paradoxes that are disturbing to him. This book is different in that it is about Charles Ringma and his journey though it also echoes the journey of others who have walked that path. He seems to draw from many of the saints of old. It is he who bears his mind, his heart and his soul. But don’t be fooled, this is not a narcissistic exercise in navel gazing; it is a time of listening at the altar of the authors’ confessionals. Charles is a wordsmith who skilfully and subtly takes us on his journey as we are perhaps faced with the same tensions and dichotomies of daily living in the Kingdom of God, especially in a western context. It is insightful, inspirational, challenging and, sometimes, disturbing.

The take-home message that I have personally drawn from this is of an increased hope – a greater and deeper hope to see and live in the Kingdom of God in my daily life, to be in the world but not of it nor conformed to it. To live in the transformational zone. I think a slow daily and deeply reflective reading of the book will assist that process for me, and I think for many of the readers.

I commend this book as not one to simply fill a space on the bookshelf but one to assist reflection and review of the pilgrimage journey for the thinking Christian. It is a very practical and insightful book which is relatively free of theological jargon and it would be an ideal read for individuals seeking a deeper more meaningful Christian faith experience. It is an accessible companion of about one hundred pages and it is broken into twenty-eight chapters, each loaded with nourishment and wisdom. It is incredible value at $25.

November 2021


Learning from the Desert

2021 Day of Penitence, St. Francis College, Milton, 13th March “Transformation within the desert” in this time of the pandemic.

Talk 3 – Learning from the desert by Ray Clifton tssf

Introduction

When I was in Formation at St. Francis College, I would have a personal retreat in the summer break at the Old Friary at Brookfield. On one occasion I joined Midday prayers in the Chapel. During Prayers, I was surprised when I saw Brother Noel Thomas pray the Cross Prayer with arms outstretched. That day, I learnt something about trusting God and the need to let go of my false humility. Even though I had heard a call to be a Tertiary, I thought I wasn’t good enough to follow Jesus in the company of Francis. I saw in this action, the vocation to desire to be shaped by the cross and Divine Compassion, not for my sake but for a call to live the Gospel and embody it (however imperfectly).

What are we noticing as we emerge from Pandemic? In this talk, I would like to reflect on our shared experience over the last year and the call to witness to a life of Penitence and shaped by Divine Compassion.

During the Pandemic we saw rapid the uptake of technology to fill the void for relationships, communities, education, and business. Churches challenged by closures and finding ways to provide support and worship, adapted to technology where possible. This adaption brought forward the long forestalled virtual, connection to a wider group of people for worship groups, communication, and support.

In May last year, while working from home, I was pulled up short by the change to sounds in our garden. Because of border closures and restrictions on travel there was little noise from traffic and no roar from jets overhead or in the distance from the airport. For the first time it was possible to hear more birds in the garden than the usual crow, magpie, kookaburra, or noisy minor bird.

The Environment benefited with cleaner air and lack of noise pollution. Last year, Earth Overshoot day was later than 2019 because of less emissions. It was held on August 22 three weeks later than 2019 because of decreases calculated in CO2 emissions. Many were hopeful that these things would open an opportunity for change and point to a different future.

The Pandemic has shone a light on the precarious nature too of employment, under-employment, and unemployment; especially as the numbers of people with little or no work swelled through the pandemic. Concern has emerged too over proposed Industrial Relations Law changes and their flow on to vulnerable workers. The imminent withdrawal of financial support for business and workers has been highlighted as an opportunity to reassess support for the vulnerable as well as fairness in the workplace.

The Younger Son – What does this change

. 17But when he came to himself, he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’”

The younger son stranded in a foreign place, after spending his share of inheritance is destitute and isolated. Forced to accept degradation as a swine herder he is humiliated and willing to shamefully accept his status of being culturally and legally dead to his father because of his insult. The son is prepared to be treated as a slave and not a son. He is prepared to do the work of a slave on his father’s property just to have shelter, purposeful work, culturally appropriate food, and fair treatment. Perhaps even be near his father.

The younger son’s desert brings him to himself and a longing for the familiar even if on different terms. The son’s realisation, while filled with shame, begins to turn him to desire change. He realises that there is no right to any claim on his father. However, he hopes for mercy and nothing more. The son’s road to new hope starts with confession of the pain and insult caused to his father and trusting in mercy.

The wisdom of the insulted father

But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.

We are told the father runs to greet his son when he is still far off. In the joy of this time, with the memory of the pain he bore, the father’s action is vindicated. The extravagance of his love shown in the trust and freedom offered to the son finds its fulfilment.

The father shows the depth of longing and love which greet his son when he says, ‘24for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!”

The father brings from his desert experience of aching for his son, wisdom. The wisdom of risking trust on a son turned in on himself and his desires. The wisdom of allowing the son to make his own mistakes and respond to the consequences.

The father’s words reveal the presence of grace and unconditional love in response to the humbled son. It’s worth asking though of the son, what next? What are you going to do now that you know what you know and are sorry for the things you did?

Learning from this desert time leaves us with the same question. Now we know what we know from this experience, what will we do to show we are penitent and have a desire to live the Gospel in a new way?

Francis and Penitence

St. Francis would often pray with arm’s outstretched and as Brother Bernard discovered, would pray, ‘My Lord and my God.’ The Divine compassion was so important to Francis. It’s as if he embodied the cross to remind himself of God’s extravagant love.

Francis’ response to Divine Compassion in the cross is not just recognition of need for God’s grace but also the ways in which our lives obscure God’s image in us. God’s Love calling us to repentance, calls us to live lives of abundant love in newness of life.

For Francis, to live fully was to live the Gospel in ways which reveal that God is present and active in the world. Francis sought to cooperate with God’s action and to be more and more moulded into the image of God in him. He knew that there was a need to acknowledge those things which obscure or distort that image.

The way to living the Gospel wholly, was through a life of prayer and penitence. Not penitence in the sense of self-punishment or self-loathing but turning to God in humility and trusting in love and mercy.

Penitence then is an active thing. For Francis, living a penitent life included humility and joyful thanksgiving for God’s forgiveness. The Fruit of which is a life overflowing Love.

This Love, the Divine compassion, Francis met and responded to in his relationships with the Creation and in solidarity and care of the poor and vulnerable. Whether singing the praises of God, preaching to the birds, speaking to the wolf of Gubbio or sitting and begging with the poor, Francis embodied God’s Love and responded to it around him.

Penitence was not passive for Francis. Penitence was visible in renewed living as a disciple of Christ. Living humbly from what he learnt from the Gospel and his own mistakes.

Conclusion

This Pandemic time has shocked us. Settling into the challenges of the Pandemic has pared back our lives. We have learnt from the characters of the story of the Prodigal Son about love and mercy meeting us in that vulnerable space.

Francis gives us the pattern to live penitent lives, humbly and generously. Being conformed to the cross and shaped by Divine compassion we are called to serve God and in solidarity with others.

* Where is God inviting you to know the welcome of mercy and love?
* Where are you called to be open to the cross and Divine Compassion and be shaped or deepened in your response to others and witness to God’s love?

Mary of Nazareth: The Franciscan Connection

Mary of Nazareth
Part One: the Franciscan Connection
by Pirrial Clift tssf

The approaching Feast of the Annunciation [25th March] prompted me to write something about Mary, the Patron Saint of all Franciscans – and the Franciscan connection seems an obvious place to begin.

Devotion to Mary has been part of Christian praxis since very early times, however at times it has been spread a little too thickly on the daily bread of the Church, which led to a virtual abandonment of Marian devotion from many Anglican circles. However Mary was not totally forgotten, as evidenced by the little side-chapels dedicated to the glory of God in her name, beautified with fresh flowers, where candles are lit and prayers rise heavenwards. Mother’s Union keeps her memory alive too, honouring Mary as the Mother of God; and dedicates their work to the support and spiritual care of families, always remembering Mary’s vital part in Jesus’ life.

St. Francis’ devotion to Mary is patently clear when we consider that he wrote the antiphon ‘Holy Virgin Mary’ which was recited at both beginning and end of the seven Daily Offices – that’s 14 times each day!

Antiphon: Holy Virgin Mary
Holy Virgin Mary, among the women born into the world there is no-one like you. Daughter and servant of the most high and supreme King, and of the Father in heaven; Mother of our most holy Lord Jesus Christ, Spouse of the Holy Spirit, pray for us with Saint Michael the Archangel, all the powers of heaven and all the saints, at the side of your most holy beloved Son, our Lord and Teacher.
Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.
[Francis of Assisi. Early Documents. The Saint. Ed. Regis J Armstrong et al P 141, and see footnote.]

The Angelus – also known as The Memorial of the Incarnation – has been chanted by laity, clergy and religious throughout Christendom at dawn, noon and sunset for hundreds of years, accompanied by the ringing of bells in sets of three, symbolising the Trinity. It began as the repetition of three Hail Mary’s and the tolling bell after Compline in monastic communities, and gradually developed into the form we know. It is documented as being used as early as the twelfth century by Franciscans. The Angelus uses Bible quotes interspersed with the Hail Mary [which is itself the combination of a bible quote and a prayer] to recount Mary’s fiat and Jesus’ birth, death and resurrection, concluding with a humble prayer to be made worthy of Christ’s promises.

Some historians suggest that St Francis popularised it as a way of sanctifying the hours, influenced by hearing the Islamic ‘Call to Prayer’ when he visited the Sultan. Be that as it may, St Francis’s theology is certainly incarnational – he loved to reflect on and speak of Jesus’ life on earth; and saw Jesus’ face reflected in the faces of those he met, especially after his encounter with the leper. Jesus’ life and passion were frequently on his mind, and simple things such as the sight of a couple of crossed sticks or a lamb triggered the remembrance of his sacrificial love and suffering.

Many religious still follow this tradition – I imagine the First Order Brothers at Stroud continue to do so. Across Europe when the bells rang people paused in their work to pray and remember that God is with us. During my Monastery years I followed in Sr. Angela’s footsteps and was frequently joined by Monastery guests praying along or simply listening – often asking questions later. These days Brigid the cat accompanies me onto the veranda first thing each morning to pray the Angelus. Sadly, we have no bell.

The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary,
and she conceived by the Holy Spirit.
Hail Mary, full of grace,
blessèd are you among women,
and blessèd is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.

Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord,
let it be to me according to your Word.
Hail Mary…

The Word became flesh,
And dwelt among us.
Hail Mary…

Pray for us, O holy Mother of God,
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

We beseech you, O Lord,
that as we have known the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ
by the message of an angel,
so by his cross and resurrection
we may come to the glory of the resurrection. Amen.

The Salutation of the Virgin Mary

Hail, O Lady, Holy Queen,
Mary, holy Mother of God, who are the virgin made Church, chosen by the Most High Father in heaven, whom he consecrated by his most holy Beloved Son
and the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, in whom there was and is all fullness of grace and every good.
Hail, his Palace! Hail his Tabernacle! Hail his Dwelling! Hail his Robe! Hail his Servant! Hail, his Mother! And hail, all you holy virtues, which are poured into the hearts of the faithful through the grace and enlightenment of the Holy Spirit, that from being unbelievers, you may make them faithful to God.
[Francis of Assisi: Early Documents. The Saint, Ed. Regis J. Armstrong et al. P163]

Part one – The Saint – in the trilogy ‘Early Documents’ describes this piece, written by St. Francis, as a ‘litany of greetings describing Mary’s role in the plan of salvation’. We will take a closer look at ‘The Salutation’ next time.

William Short OFM writes that the simplicity, poverty and humility of God revealed in Jesus are found in the Eucharist and in Mary, especially through the feast of Christmas. [Poverty and Joy. William J Short OFM, p40-42] Mary’s simple trust in God, revealed through her humble acceptance of God’s will at the Annunciation, and her lived poverty, echo Jesus’ abandonment of his own will and life to God: she becomes a model of discipleship. Was she the first Christian? Mary gave her life to Jesus, following him faithfully all the way to the Cross – and beyond.

Teeter-totter spirituality

Matthew 11:28-30

When we moved our young family to the United States, we couldn’t find a ‘see-saw’ anywhere. When eventually we found a playground with a see-saw, we were told it was called a ‘teeter-totter’. On reflection, the American name is more descriptive than ‘see-saw’: ‘teeter-totter’ describes the way two children play on the equipment.

Each child sits at her end of the long plank and balances up and down. Two ends, a plank, and an elevated pivot are all that it takes to make a see-saw.

Jesus describes a spiritual see-saw at the end of this Sunday’s Gospel reading. There are two ends to the see-saw: one end is ‘Come unto me … and rest’. The other end is ‘Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me’ (Matthew 11:28-30).

These are two poles of Christian life. At one end is the delightful world of prayer, of resting in God, of basking in a relationship with the One who utterly accepts us. At the other end, is the world of ministry, of efforts for the Gospel, of actively caring for others.

Spirituality and pastoral care, being loved by God and loving others. The see-saw reminds us that, though there may be two ends, it is one plank. In the end you cannot separate prayer and ministry.

In the Franciscan tradition, we say we serve God in the Three Ways of ‘Prayer, Study and Work’. These are the three activities into which all Christians are invited. ‘Study’ is like the vertical beam of the see-saw which enables us to pivot between Prayer and Ministry. ‘Study’ is learning from Jesus (Matthew 11:29), considering mindfully both our prayer and our work for the Kingdom.

This is the foundation of the Franciscan idea of an active-contemplative spirituality.

What we learn is that prayer and ministry cannot be separated. They are the same plank, the same life. Some Christians are tempted to spend ‘sweet hours of prayer’, retreating to the safety of spirituality, and never venturing out to practise on others the love which God lavishes on us.

Some find it easy to ignore the pesky questions about God and prayer and put all their effort into social activism, caring for the refugee, standing up against racism, feeding the hungry – all fantastic Franciscan activities – and forget that it is not sustainable. We need also to be fed ourselves, and nurtured and healed.

The wisdom of Jesus is that both are needed: ‘Come unto me…’ and ‘Take my yoke upon you.’ The challenge of the end of this Sunday’s Gospel reading is this: how is your balance on the teeter-totter? Do you move ‘up and down’ between prayer and ministry, or are you stuck at one end or the other? What ‘study’ do you need to help integrate spirituality and ministry?

Penitence as a Way of Life

Dear Brothers and Sisters of Penance,

Greetings from the Misty Mountain, from Pirrial Clift tssf

I have a friend who lives interstate: we have long chats on the phone about books we are reading and our understandings of ‘Life, the Universe, and Everything’. Recently we spoke of penitence, that hoary, hairy hobgoblin that made life utter misery for many Christians living in the shadow of a fierce and frosty God. My speaking of penitence from a perspective influenced by St. Francis and other friendly Saints intrigued her, and she asked me to write my thoughts down. I offer them here for your consideration as the strangest Holy Week the world has experienced in a long time breaks open most poignantly Jesus’ profound identification with human suffering.

Penitence as a way of life.

In a group of pithy sayings written for his Brothers – ‘the Admonitions’ – Francis said: ‘Consider O human being, in what great excellence the Lord God has placed you, for he created and formed you in the image of his beloved Son according to the body and to his likeness according to the Spirit. And all creatures under heaven serve, know and obey their Creator, each according to its own nature, better than you. And even the demons did not crucify him, but you, together with them, have crucified him, and are still crucifying him by delighting in vices and sins.’

Let’s unpack that a little: the way I understand it, Sister Water for example, praises God by being water – pure, humble and precious. Brother lark by being a lark – the flowers by being flowers. Similarly my daughter Nicole, who won first prize in the Mortlake Show with a handmade teddy bear, found the praise came to her, the creator … ‘Oh isn’t it lovely! Isn’t she clever!

Alone amongst God’s created beings, humans are not content with being what we were created to be – human – made in the image and likeness of God, able to love and reason and create. Not content with being made in God’s likeness, we want to BE God. We crave the power that belongs only to God. [Scripture says, for example Ps 62.11 Once God has spoken, twice have I heard this; that power belongs to God. Verse 12 continues ‘and steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord.’ Power over other human beings and other creatures is sought and fought over by humanity, and alas! It is not accompanied by love. Power to put people down, to corrupt, to violate, to harm in many sad and cruel ways.

In St Francis’ time our Sister Mother Earth was still seen on the whole as a force to be reckoned with – the terrors of the wild oceans, maps marked by signs saying ‘Here be dragons’; the decimation of whole populations by the unseen forces of disease -there were many conundrums which modern science has unlocked. If Francis were alive today he would know that human power has been unleashed against our Sister, Mother Earth herself! As a species we abuse and degrade the one who feeds us in our greedy lust for wealth and power. For instance in many places Sister Water is no longer pure, she has been polluted and defiled…

When we see human beings behaving cruelly we say their behaviour is inhumane – it is an aberration, it is not normal. Human beings were created to reflect God’s goodness. St Irenaeus of Lyon, born in Smyrna Turkey in 150 AD – a theologian, and one of the Church Fathers, said “The Glory of God is a human being fully alive.”
Jesus was fully human, fully humane, as his behaviour while he walked on Mother Earth revealed. Fully humane, as he rejected human glory and success and gave himself for others. No skerrick of lust for power over others lurked in his heart; he was all about celebrating humility, healing, giving new life in various ways – and forgiving people’s sin.

Jesus saw sin as offending, wounding, hurting God. Sin was to be wept over, as he wept over Jerusalem I can get that. I know a woman whose son is in jail, she is grieving and weeping. She asked me to pray, but I have no idea what he’s done – it is so painful she cannot speak the words. We are God’s children, though we often forget it. Jesus, like a mother, is grieving and weeping over our sins and lack of love.

The canticle in APBA [p428] written by Anselm begins:

Jesus, as a mother you gather your people to you:
you are gentle with us as a mother with her children.
Often you weep over our sins and our pride,
tenderly you draw us from hatred and judgement….

Sin also harms the sinning one. Wounds to the soul, the spirit. Wounds which hamper the flourishing of relationships between us and others, and God – sometimes we even hate ourselves.
What some holy people have said about repentance.

Julian of Norwich tells a story that goes something like this: A Christian waits beside the Lord, bursting with love; ready to serve. The Lord makes a request and off she runs, eager to please – but she slips and falls. Up she gets and off she goes, but again she falls, hurting herself so that now she must walk. Too soon she stumbles into a hole and when she clambers out, realising that she cannot go on, she limps back to Jesus, covered in bumps and bruises, wounded and bleeding, her head hanging low – she has failed. Jesus gently lifts her up, heals her wounds, embraces her lovingly, kisses her better – then sends her off, happy and free again.

John Mountney, in a book on Julian entitled Sin can be a Glory, argues that sin can work for us rather than against us if after our inevitable falls we immediately and habitually turn back to Jesus for healing.
Repentance is turning around. Turning from what is harmful towards God; looking at Jesus; occupying ourselves with whatever brings us closer to God is the foundational message of Lent, and was Francis’ foundational message.

St Clare, praying day and night for decades before the San Damiano Crucifix, spoke of gazing at Jesus. Her words have been put to music by Breige O’Hare OSC.

Look, look on Jesus, poor and crucified<
look on this holy one who for your love has died,
And remember as you contemplate the sacred mystery
This Jesus who you gaze upon
loves you most tenderly.
Look, look on Jesus see he is calling you.
Run to him and do not fear, for his love is true.
Let your heart desire him and burn with deepest love
Look how he shines on you
the one from heaven above.

Look, look on Jesus, upon the sacred tree
And as you pass along the way, ponder, attend, and see
if there is any sorrow, like the sorrow he endures
and wonder at the amazing love
which is for ever yours.
Look, look on Jesus see he is calling you.
Run to him and do not fear, for his love is true.
Let your heart desire him and burn with deepest love
Look how he shines on you
the one from heaven above.

Jesus the God of love.

Clare of Assisi
St Francis preached repentance wherever he went – as Jesus himself did. Francis was head-over-heels in love with Jesus, and kept him always in his heart, on his lips and before his inner eyes.

St. Teresa of Avila describes our journey toward God in the Interior Castle. To the baptised she says that Jesus is in the very centre of the castle/our soul, and he is shining, shining. We make our way to him through a myriad passages and rooms with stairs randomly leading in and out; up and down… our task is to keep the light in view; if we cannot see him shining faintly in the distance, we are going the wrong way.

It is imperative that we are aware of our sin. Imagining ourselves perfect is a recipe for disaster, every vestige of humility goes down the drain, and humility is the key to holiness. However it is very important to remember our sin is powerless in the face of God’s eternal love and mercy.

For all the wickedness in the world, that humanity can do or think, is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal dropped in the sea. William Langland

St Bonaventure speaks of the burden, the weight of sin. It weighs so heavily that sometimes we struggle under the load. The psalmist laments about this too. Ps 38. 5
The tide of my iniquities has gone over my head,
their weight is a burden too heavy to bear.
My wounds stink and fester because of my sinful folly…

An overburdened person walks with his head hanging down; his focus is on his misery and the weight on his back. If he were only to look up and fix his eyes on the shining Son – Bonaventure explains – he could be free again.

Focusing on the most important thing.

Allowing oneself to become obsessed with one’s sins is not what repentance is about. Especially when the matter is serious the ancient steps of contrition, confession, and restitution remain vital, and any consequences must be borne with as much grace as we can muster. Then it’s time to re-set our course – turn our eyes away from ourselves, and gaze upon the beauty and goodness of Christ. … beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Phil.4

One way of understanding repentance as a way of life is to imagine being aboard a little boat. You set your compass according to your desired destination and set sail – the great ocean swells and currents, the buffeting winds and rocky outcrops, don’t permit sailing as the crow flies: when the wind drops or you sleep, the boat drifts with the tide. You need to repeatedly correct your course, checking your compass to keep heading in the right direction.

[Search Google Images for Odilon Redon, ‘The Mystical Boat’.]

Those who brood darkly on their sins for too long lose sight of Christ! This unhappy state can lead to a kind of inverted pride, where one comes to believe that ‘my’ sins are so vast that God cannot or will not forgive, putting the lie to the scriptures! Others, who gaze on Christ, returning to him constantly after slipping and falling, will find healing and wholeness.
As Margaret Attwood wrote:

As you travel on through life sister, whatever be your goal,
keep your eye upon the doughnut and not upon the hole.
Which just about sums it up.

pax et bonum,

Pirrial