The Priest looked down at the lump of plaster on the table and thought to himself, 'How many prayers have risen up through you and now you have fallen back down to the ground. Are you, O lump of plaster sent now as a Messenger? Are you the warning from the Almighty of how we have neglected God? Surely, you, O lump of plaster, tell me more than any fire or flood could. And yet, no. You are not a sign of God's Wrath. You are like a weeping Virgin. You are like the Crucified God. You are like the Infant Babe, longing to be cradled by the Mother. You come to me now, not as a rock that falls from the sky bringing calamity, but like a beggar who asks for alms. You are so small and humble, yet pleading and insistent, like the High Priest himself.
For how many years now has this Church, a Church in which Chesterton himself worshipped and whispered prayers in the language of God, festered and been left to fall into ruins? Are you, O lump of plaster, a living Sign more than I, of what the last 40 years have wrought? This Church, God's house, because of our neglect, has fallen into ruin. Have these last 40 years done more to tear down the walls of God's house, to destroy the Faith than even the ransacking of King Henry's men could achieve. Henry's men tore down Churches from the inside and stripped the Altars.
Yet, where are King Henry's men today? They are dead and forgotten and all of them lay now in the grave. No, all this, this ruin. We have done this ourselves. The ruin has come from within. Not an outside enemy, not an attack from without, not invading hordes or bloodthirsty forces. You come to me now like Christ. At once you are Judge of not just me but my predecessors before me, and yet, like Christ you wish to turn all this ill only into good. This Church, like You, O Lord, will rise again, like we will rise again, because You will speak Your Word and animate those who revere You.
Even those who did not revere You, will revere You. Those, even, who treated You with contempt and disdain will revere You once more. Like this lump of plaster, this stone which was rejected, you, O Lord will become the cornerstone once more. If England is to become Our Lady's Dowry once more, it will be done through you, a small lump of plaster, who seem so insignificant, yet who tell now of consecrations, desecrations and a new and glorious Reformation. You tell of Heaven, Purgatory and Hell, of the Church Militant, the Church Suffering and the Church Triumphant, of the Past, the Present and the Future, of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. To Him be glory, now and forever more.
Three periods of the Church, through which men have stumbled, three times, all belonging to Him, three Churches all belonging to God, three Persons, all God, three destinations of the Soul, all make us tremble in awe. Three decades in which the Incarnate God dwelt on Earth, three more years in which He gave witness to the Truth in His Ministry. Three days He laid in the tomb and on that third day, He rose again. And yes, like the Resurrection, impossible for mortals to comprehend, impossible for even Saints to fathom, You will make immortals of us all, refashioned, resurrected, resembling You, in Your Eternal Glory, and, like that Resurrection, this Church too will reflect You, as a Mirror of Beauty, as a Mirror of Heaven, as a Mirror of Perfection. Three men will ascend the Altar of God once more, almost as a sign of the Blessed Trinity to men, a Priest, a Sub-Deacon and a Deacon.
The light of the Sun will stream through the East Window, like the Light of Christ, the Light of the World rising in the East and we, Priest and People, will face You and give You praise and glory once more as we hope to into Eternity. Yes, like Christ, you, O lump of plaster have notcome to condemn, but to save. Like Christ, O lump of plaster, you have come not to destroy, but to heal. Like Christ, O lump of plaster, you have come to unite Heaven and Earth, to refashion, like our bodies and souls will be into His Image, the House of God. Yes, like the broken Body of Christ upon the Cross, you come to me now, not as an omen, not as a threat of collapse, not of failure, but a quiet plea for Faith, for Hope, and above all, Charity!'