Welcome to the Cenacle Region of Aotearoa New Zealand/Australia.
We companion people on their faith journey in the midst of life. Living justice and Gospel values,
we draw from our experience of God, creating a place where people can encounter God.
This Easter we weep among trees
at the tomb’s entrance.
Autumn heralds the divesting of leaves
that clutch at our hearts.
Angels might cloud the tomb’s entrance yet.
Every one has a silver lining.
This is the wisdom of trees.
© Anne Powell
Events and updates:
– Waikane Cenacle Family May get together – another special afternoon; click here
– Cenacle retreat opportunities – see Retreats in 2017. Our Lady of Kapiti Parish Retreat in Daily Life is Sunday 11 June – Friday 16 June 2017.
– Letter from Bethlehem by Br Peter Bray, Vice Chancellor of Bethlehem University – 15April 2017; click here.
Articles of interest:
– Sr Anne Powell RC “Consumer Power Making a Difference”.
– Andrea Dean “The Living Hell of Modern Slavery”, published in Tui Motu InterIslands, issue 213, March 2017 (reprinted with the kind permission of Andrea Dean, the author, and Ann Gilroy RSJ, the Editor of Tui Motu InterIslands).
Travina Oh (left) and Michaela Stack at the Cenacle Family monthly catch-up in May, standing in front of an artwork by Michaela called Consider the lilies in mixed media, on loan to the Cenacle sisters.
Refugees Welcome in New Zealand!
Our Cenacle community in Waikanae stands in solidarity with millions of women, men and children who each day suffer as a result of war and violence. We honour the innocent lives lost, both in war and conflict and in the desperate and dangerous journey to find a safe new home for all. We take a stand – as so many people have come together around the world to say “Refugees Welcome in New Zealand!”
We invite you to relect on Anne’s poem, Refuge of Spices. Anne wrote this poem some years ago when she was in Hyde Park, London. She retrieved a ball which a little boy had thrown and was unable to reach. Anne and the mother of the child had a conversation. The family were refugees from Iraq.
Refuge of spices
The woman from Iraq tows
her children through the park.
Wind troubles her black
robes painting a ship
sailing on a green sea.
Her children run free as waves.
The woman sits by the lake
Oasis in a strange land
lacking the hospitality of raisins and sweet tea.
She throws bread to the two swans
that paddle her lostness to the other side.
Allows the solitude of swans
to carry her home where palms
and palaces welcome her
beneath the blue dome of sky.
Feels the desertion of exile
beneath her breast
beneath her fingernails
refuge of spices.
© Anne Powell