For 50 days the Paschal Candle has stood in church near the ambo – a strong reminder of the presence of the Risen Christ in our midst. After Vespers on Pentecost Sunday the candle will be transferred to the entrance of the church and will continue to remind us that ‘we are an Easter people’ as we journey through the year.
Below, the artist who designed this year’s candle, Sr Julian Falkus, shares what inspired her and offers an extended reflection on HOPE.
‘Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without words –
And never stops at all.’ (Emily Dickinson)
Many years ago, a venerable and elderly sister in my community remarked that of all the virtues, the one we cannot live without is HOPE. This memory sprang to mind when I learned that 2025 was to be a Jubilee Pilgrim year of Hope. It also coincides the 400th anniversary of our founding sisters making their Solemn Profession, 1 January 1625. Such a juxtaposition of events is no mere coincidence. The huge significance of this is deeply meaningful in the dire circumstances in which the world finds itself at the moment. If ever there was a time when the virtue of HOPE was needed, it is now.
‘The [coming] Jubilee will be a Holy Year marked by the hope that does not fade – our hope in God. May it help us to recover the confident trust that we require, in the Church and in society; in our interpersonal relationships, in international relations and in our task of promoting the dignity of all persons and respect for God’s creation.’ (Spes Non Confundit 25, Hope does not disappoint.)
No two ways about it, HOPE had somehow to feature on the design for this year’s Paschal candle. All very well, but, as one of our Oblates said to me, ‘I will be very interested to see how you translate that onto a candle’, and my reply was ‘So would I’!
Researching symbols of hope
Researching symbols of hope was my first port of call and, as I usually begin with the cross, I decided that this was going to be in the shape of an anchor. I was to discover later that the Vatican logo for the Jubilee year also sported an anchor.
‘Will your anchor hold in the storms of life?’
(Priscilla Owens 1882).
The Talmud asks the question, ‘Did you give up hope?’ According to Amazon, Viktor Frankl’s book, Man’s Search for Meaning, is ‘The classic tribute to hope from the Holocaust.’ Instead of succumbing to the unspeakable conditions in the camps, he studied how many men gave up hope and others survived. Allied with his own experience, Frankl discovered the survivors could only do so by finding meaning in their lives.
He himself did this in two ways:
1. By love, concentrating particularly on his beloved wife held prisoner elsewhere.
2. He felt it his responsibility to help people find meaning and thus avoid the existential stress of living without meaning. He knew he had to survive in order to share what he was learning with the world. This gave him a reason to live when so many in the camp were giving up. In other words he never lost hope.
Later, he hoped to help his patients explore their freedom and responsibility. He asked some who came to him with suicidal thoughts, not why they considered suicide, but why didn’t they commit suicide.
Mary, symbol of Hope
Having undertaken my first ever icon writing course/retreat in the stunning setting of Kylemore Abbey, Connemara, I was inspired to add a miniature impression of an icon of Our Lady on the candle next to the anchor-Cross. She is holding something tenderly in her hand and if you want to know what, it will be revealed later.
You could look at the picture now and decide for yourself…
I asked the nuns here what they thought it was. No answer was incorrect because they saw what it was for them. It is another great symbol of hope fitting in perfectly with the pilgrim jubilee year of hope.
‘Mary: Sign of true hope and comfort for the pilgrim people of God’ (Lumen Gentium 68,9) is holding the scallop shell, which will be familiar to those who have travelled the Camino de Santiago. Many pilgrims wear such a shell on this pilgrimage. There is a legend (are not such stories based on fact?) of St James whose body arrived in Spain after his martyrdom AD 44. The ship landed, and a panicking horse threw his rider, so both fell into the water. Miraculously, both were saved and emerged covered in scallop shells.
Perhaps more plausible, but who knows…scallop shells are found near St James’ tomb on the coast of Galicia. In order to fulfil a penance, penitents in the Middle Ages had to make a pilgrimage. They were required to prove they had reached their destination and so they took these scallop shells as proof when they returned home. Their final destination and ours will be the heavenly one for we are all, ‘pilgrims and strangers on the earth’ (Hebrews 11:13). Scallop shells were also used to administer Baptism, ideally suited for scooping up water. Such shells often appear on old baptismal fonts.
Rainbow of Hope
The rainbow, often delighting us here as it arcs our monastery and fields, is a beautiful symbol of hope especially after a storm. I’m not sure if the promised pot of gold at the end of a rainbow has ever come to pass, but I keep a spade nearby just in case.
Multifaceted, rainbows evoke a sense of wonder whatever age we are, blending darkness, sunlight and water to create the seven colours, always in the same sequence. Richard of York springs to mind. The pigment colours used in iconography carry profound theological meaning. For example, red symbolises sacrifice, blood, divine love; you will often see Christ and his mother wearing red. For this reason, I have used a reddish brown colour for Our Lady on the candle.
Green, the colour of hope, living things, creation, and martyrs are sometimes depicted wearing green, signifying, according to Tertullian, ‘the seed of Christians’ (Apology 50)’.
We pray for the intercession of Our Lady of Good Hope and Consolation, as comforter of the afflicted, refuge of sinners…Star of the sea. Some people think Catholics worship the Virgin Mary but this has never been so. Her job is to lead us to her Son ‘Do whatever he tells you’
(John 21:2). Interestingly, Jesus’ first miracle, at the instigation of his mother, is not one of healing but saving the embarrassment of a newly-wed couple who had run out of wine at the wedding feast. There were six stone water jars holding 20/30 gallons each. Quite simply (!) Jesus turned all this into wine, upward of 900 bottles…which would have kept them going for a bit.
Some lone twins will be reminded of their twin when they see a double rainbow, a comforting sign of their twinship. Lone twins feel the loss of their twin acutely and this beautiful sign can provide a comforting connection, grounded as it is from one end of the arc to the other.
At the beginning of Advent, each nun here chooses a coloured slip of paper with the words, Quomodo veniet – ‘How will he [Jesus] come [at Christmas]?
The nun then turns over the paper to reveal her personal motto, taken each year from the Scriptures either in English or in Latin; it is a ‘lucky dip’.
One year mine was one word, ‘IRIS’. I was bemused at the idea that Jesus would come to me at Christmas as a flower but further research revealed that in classical Latin the word for rainbow is IRIS. It is the same word for the Greek goddess of rainbows whose role is a link between mortals and the gods. Encompassing many colours, I couldn’t think of a better word for either.
Noah and the Ark
Almost the last but not least, mention must be made of Noah (Genesis 6: 9-22). Notice the rope on the candle. Being a good sailor, (presumably) Noah must have used ‘Sailors’ rope’ thick hessian perhaps, non-fraying and capable of saving one of the animals that might fall into the water, perhaps an over-excited kangaroo. A play on words, an ‘arc’ covering the ‘ark’, the rainbow, a Covenant sign of hope and renewal as the waters dried up. The dove, flying in with a fresh olive branch to indicate dry land.
Talking of birds, ‘that thing with feathers’, have you noticed the dove in the thick of the rainbow?
‘…that perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without words –
And never – stops – at – all.
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm’ (Emily Dickinson).
In the thickest of storms, that which ‘perches’ within us will always be there:
‘..come take possession of our souls
And make them all thine own’ (‘Come Holy Ghost’, Tallis)
The Fish
One last very important symbol, not to be overlooked is the simple line drawing of a fish at the base of the candle. Used by the early Christians to identify each other, the word is an acronym for:
Jesus Christ Son of God Saviour
The first letters of the above in Greek spell, ICHTHYS which means FISH.
On the candle the fish, along with the anchor, settled in the water, stands firm in our hearts and souls as we navigate the storms and vicissitudes of our lives on the surface. And even if Jesus seems asleep in our boat, we know that simply because he is there, he knows there will always be a calm after the storm. ‘The needy shall not always be forgotten and the hope of the poor shall not be in vain’ (Psalm 9:19).
Conclusion
As we approach Pentecost with the promise of the Holy Spirit, I will conclude with the words of Pope Leo in a recent address on hope:
‘Storms are part of the journey. Hope doesn’t always come as a bright light, sometimes it starts as a tiny spark, often beginning with one small step…hope comes when you feed your mind with the truth of Scripture. The more truth you hear, the stronger your hope becomes. It is like sunlight to your soul and slowly, the darkness begins to fade. Hope is not gone, it is just buried. Under the weight of pain…buried things can grow’.
Sr Julian, June 2025
©Stanbrook Abbey 2025