Roráte caéli désuper,et núbes plúant jústum.

Mass in honour of Virgin Mary, Mother of our Saviour, during Advent. It is celebrated during sunrise. When the mass ends the sun has risen, symbolising the dawn of salvation, the birth of Jesus Christ.

“Drop down, ye heavens, from above,and let the skies pour down righteousness.”

Ne irascáris Dómine,
ne ultra memíneris iniquitátis:
ecce cívitas Sáncti fácta est desérta:
Síon desérta fácta est, Jerúsalem desoláta est:
dómus sanctificatiónis túæ et glóriæ túæ,
ubi laudavérunt te pátres nóstri.

Peccávimus, et fácti súmus tamquam immúndus nos,
et cecídimus quasi fólium univérsi:
et iniquitátes nóstræ quasi véntus abstulérunt nos:
abscondísti faciem túam a nóbis,
et allisísti nos in mánu iniquitátis nóstræ.

Víde Dómine afflictiónem pópuli túi,
et mítte quem missúrus es:
emítte Agnum dominatórem térræ,
de Pétra desérti ad móntem fíliæ Síon:
ut áuferat ípse júgum captivitátis nóstræ.

Vos testes mei, dicit Dóminus,
et servus meus quem elégi;
ut sciátis, et credátis mihi:
ego sum, ego sum Dóminus, et non est absque me salvátor:
et non est qui de manu mea éruat.

Consolámini, consolámini, pópule méus:
cito véniet sálus túa:
quare mæróre consúmeris,
quia innovávit te dólor?
Salvábo te, nóli timére,
égo enim sum Dóminus Déus túus,
Sánctus Israël, Redémptor túus.

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people;
my salvation shall not tarry:
why wilt thou waste away in sadness?
why hath sorrow seized thee?
Fear not, for I will save thee:
For I am the Lord thy God,
the Holy One of Israel, thy Redeemer.

Alma Redemptoris Mater, quae pervia caeli  porta manes, et stella maris, succurre cadenti,surgere qui curat, populo: tu quae genuisti,  natura mirante, tuum sanctum Genitorem,Virgo prius ac posterius, Gabrielis ab ore  sumens illud Ave, peccatorum miserere.

Pain and beauty

We had just said hello, and were beginning to present ourselves when her voice broke. Everything about her looked like a dream. She was beautiful, she was young, studying to become an art teacher. Sitting there in the airy room with the ivy climbing up along the window, she looked like to have a lovely life, fresh like a summer morning.

I saw her pain when she tried to explain, divorce, just the beginning while she made an attempt to cover her face with her hand to hide her tears. My heart became heavy to see her pain. I wanted to cry with her, but my words were clumbsy, “how terrible, poor you”. I could suddenly see her loss, both life, love and future, dreams, crushed, rejected, but I could not do anything to help her.

It wasn’t meant to be like that from the beginning.

“To love is when the loved one’s good is willed”


It is so fascinating to ponder about the birth of Christ, such a mystery. After this miracle he never left us. Through the millenia he has remained here on earth, but in this tiny host, always as a victim.

While sitting there gazing at the host admist all the lit candles, I can in a way sense this presence even if it surpasses my intellectual ability, nevertheless completely rational. He is there and will never leave as long as, as my father told me, we let him stay.

Je vous salut Marie

Being catholic with a strong love for France it is impossible to not feel a great sorrow and loss when hearing about the fire. At the same time it was so beautiful to read about the praying people around the church, the courageous firefighters and the priest father Fournier who risked his life to save the crown of thorns and the holy sacrament. That is what I call a true priest.

God as neighbour

I live on a farm where I have God as neighbour. Strange as it may sound, he is there just 50 meters from my doorstep. He has been there since I was born. My parents moved to this farm 1982 and immediately wanted to have, since they had it on their previous farm, the holy eucharist present. To be a catholic in Sweden today is, as my brother Clemens coined, “to be a stranger”. Almost all catholic churches was seized by the protestant state around 1540s. So today, if you want to have a church, you must build it yourself. My parents started building a chapel as soon as they arrived. Later it became a consecrated church, a very little church, the smallest in the diocese and consequently the smallest of all catholic churches in Sweden. Nevertheless Jesus Christ is present there in the tabernacle, completely. He is my neighbour. To live with God as neighbour creates a presence that is discovered in silence in front of the tabernacle. I love to sit there with just candles lighting the church. This little church is the heart of the farm. The church bell tells about it, the red oil lamp indicates the place and the prayers witness about it. He waits there in darkness. I think it has made a mark on my life, because you always relate to him hiding in this little church wherever you are on the farm or if you are walking in the forests and fields in the vicinity, a reference point as well as a refuge. And maybe it is not he that is my neighbour, but I his? It must be so, but in secret.

The tabernacle and the altar of our little church. Both were made by my father.