HYMN TO MARY MAGDALA - Bishop Pat Buckley

Loving helper of our Lord,
Thank you for your love for Him;
Standing there when all had fled,
Loyal whether live or dead.

Loving servant with your nard,
Anointing Him who made the stars;
Victim of the crowd's scorn,
Witness on that Easter morn.

Loving sinner He transformed,
Heart full of immortal love;
Tears and hair on God's own feet,
We with honour proudly greet.

Mary now in Heavenly bliss,
Always by thy Lover's side;
To Him whisper my poor name,
Sinful too and weak and lame.

Living now may I Him serve,
When I die may He me save;
You and I will sing His praise,
Lost in Love's eternal days.

(To the tune of Father Faber's "By The Blood That Flowed From Thee)

THE ABSOLUTE SURRENDER OF THE WOUNDED PROPHET - For Pat by DM

How can I be the prophet of life now that I dwell in the shadow of death ?
Who will listen to your message coming from the depths of my living hell ?
My garment of figs has been stripped away, and naked I stand before you.
Now it is I who seek your touch, and the warmth of your loving embrace.

I am a worker for your kingdom, but I consciously fear the journey's way.
How can I carry this cross you have allowed me to bear, where will my
Calvary end ?
I am willing to be your loving touch, but the fear of rejection is a dear
price to pay.
How will they understand your truth when your servant will not be understood?

Lord, I am lost and suffering in this turmoil of pain.
I knock but no one answers, I seek but have yet to find.
Like a child I wait in trembling fear, seeking what comfort I can from your
strength.
I search for your consoling breasts to replenish my broken and infected
heart.

Patrick, be still and know that I am Abba, your rock in times of trouble.
Trust in me for we still walk together in the cool of the evening breeze,
For in you I see the beautiful wonder of my creation, magnified in truth and
transcendent grace.
I will console you in your darkest hour, for in your hell I too once dwelled

Our journey is far from over, for it has barely begun.
The conception of my message is once again bursting into light,
And through the cross that you are carrying you will cleave the web of night

For you are the light of my salvation in the mission that you live.

Together we will stand alone to feed the multitude that still come.
>From you they will feed on the finest milk and honey that I have to offer.
My "absolute" children will not understand you, and will blindly scorn your
cross,
But for my lost and broken you will be my dawn.

It is no longer you who live, but I who live in you,
And your cross shall be the fragrance of my future promise.
Only I am the Alpha and the Omega, the vision of the kingdom,
And you are a prophet of a future not your own.

THE FALSE PROPHET - Pat Buckley 2002

Clerical garb in all the right places.
T shirt or polo at discos and races;
Platitudes foaming from passionless lips,
Anaemic gestures from limp finger tips.

As swift as a fly to a freshly dropped stool,
The false prophet swoops to the media ghoul;
Posing at concerts and weddings and do's
Widows and orphans and victims he woos.

Graveside photos consoling the grieving,
Newsflash images of tears most deceiving;
Emptiest sermons and smarmy old quotes,
Not fooling Christ's sheep but only his goats.

The "hire a priest" of every chat show,
Willing to go where you want him to go.
At night he's a rebel against canon law,
By dawn at the palace he's kissing their paw.

Tells you he loves you just as you be,
But won't lift a finger to set your heart free;
Condemns the tough rules in his cringing style,
While watching his back with a sly sick smile.

Pretends he's in love with a farmer's young Mary,
They've never had sex as he's chaste and wary !
Others have said that he's game for a hunk,
Would that be all right for a Catholic monk ?

With an up front diehard I'd prefer for to deal,
Whose hallmark's conviction and fervour and zeal;
But Trendy's so dangerous at sixpence each way,
"Get behind me Old Satan" I hear the Lord say.

PIDDLING PETE

A country dog once came to town,
his Christian name was Pete,
his pedigree was two tards long,
and his looks were hard to beat.

And as he trotted down the road,
'twas beautiful to see;
his work on every corner,
his mark on every tree.

He watered every gateway,
and never missed a post;
for piddling was his materpiece,
and piddling was his boast.

The city dogs stood looking on,
with deep and jealous rage;
to see this simple country dog,
the piddler of his age.

They sniffed him over one by one,
and praise for him ran high;
and when one sniffed him underneath,
Pete piddle in his eye.

Then just to show those city dogs,
he didn't give a damn;
he strolled into a grocer's shop,
and piddles on the ham.

He piddles on the onions,
he piddled on the floor;
and when the grocer kicked him out,
he piddled on the door.

Behind him all the city dogs,
debated what they'd do;
they'd hold a piddling carnival,
and show the stranger through.

They showed him all the piddling posts,
they knew about the town;
they started out with many winks,
to wear the stranger down.

But Pete was with them every trick,
with vigour and with vim;
a thousand piddles, more or less,
was all the same to him.

on and on went noble Pete,
with hind leg kicking high;
while others lifted legs in bluff,
or piddled mighty dry.

He watered every piddling post,
and sprinkled every sandhill;
while all around the city dogs,
were piddled to a standstill.

Then Pete an exhibition gave,
to show it was no quibble;
with double drips, and fancy flips,
and now and then a dribble.

Around him not a city dog,
did either laugh or grin;
Pete politely piddled out of town,
as he had piddled in.

Now the city dogs said: "so long Pete",
your piddling did defeat us;
and no one ever put them wise,
that Pete had diabetes.

Rocking the Boat

Comic book heroes

A Personal Creed by Bishop Pat Buckley (1994)

I believe that in this world it is impossible to understand God.
I believe that God made this wonderful universe and all that exists.
I can find God in nature, in animals, in birds and the environment.
I believe that God made all men and women,
That He made them all equal,
And that He loves and cherishes them all equally.
I believe that the whole human race is the family of God.
I believe that there may be intelligent life on other planets
And if so, they too are part of God's family.
I hold that religion and faith are two different things,
That religion can be both good and bad
And that it is spirituality that counts.
For me your religion is an accident of your birth
Or a gift of God's great providential diversity.
There is no one true church.
All churches and all religions contain aspects of the truth.
But only God is truth.
No man is infallible.
A Buddhist or a good atheist is as acceptable to God as a good Catholic.
I believe that sex is good and so is the body.
The only sexual act that is sinful is the one that uses or abuses.
I believe in people, especially suffering people.
I believe in the power of weakness.
I believe that all men and women will be saved.
I believe in a packed Heaven and an empty Hell.
And even Satan might get another chance.
I believe in the freedom of God's sons and daughters.
I believe that dogma is often evil.
I believe that life is a journey towards God
And that no one has the right to insist that you go a certain road.
I believe that God and reality are too big for my poor words.
I believe therefore that I am only at a beginning.
Only knocking at a door.
And I believe that the best is yet to come.