On Tuesday evening, I took the opportunity to visit the Tower of London to see the installation of poppies there. Walking the entire circumference of the site means I saw all 888,246  - one for every British and Commonwealth person killed during World War 1.

Two things struck me.

One is the vast number of people concerned. This great red carpet, like a river of blood, stretches on and on; the poppies, individually, seem countless. Somehow, depicting the dead like this brings the statistics of war to life, giving some notion of the overwhelming scale of the fatalities. It's more real than a mere number.

Secondly, this is not just the dead of Britain, but the dead of the Commonwealth. It's timely to be reminded of that when so much of our current public discourse is on the subject of immigration, frequently tinged by racism or at least nationalism. The poppies remind us that people of different races, cultures and faiths shared the struggles, dangers and discomforts of war together; people of different races, cultures and faiths shared the same risk and reality of death. There is no monopoly of respect and honour on the part of British forces; equal respect and honour are due to those from other parts of the world too. That's just as true today, in our very different circumstances, as it was in the war of a century ago. Let's not forget it.

I'm glad I went. It was sobering and thought-provoking, and the image is one I shall always remember.

Fr Christopher

The latest 'Landscape Photographer of the Year' book was published today. Like the previous books in the series, it contains spectacular photos highlighting the incredible beauty of the world around us. We can see with each photographer's eyes their composition, their delight in a particular view, their interpretation of beauty through the lens of a camera. Hidden from us is the technical skill, the patience waiting for just the right level and angle of light, and perhaps the speed of their reaction when a chance opportunity for a picture presents itself.

Landscape photography begins with an appreciation of the world around us and an acute observation of its beauty. Many of us are able to exercise a similar level of attentiveness as we meditate on the wonders of creation - creation, which, we believe, reflects the wisdom of God. As the Psalmist wrote, 'O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all!' (Psalm 104)

I spent last week in the urban landscape of inner-city Sheffield, staying at the Wilson Carlile Centre. At first sight, it's an unlikely place to experience natural beauty. But my room looked out onto a tiny park, and at sunrise one morning, I lingered there - paying particular attention to the sycamore leaves heaped up on the ground, their veins picked out by frost.

Even in the most unlikely places, we can find our minds and souls stretched by created beauty. Attentiveness to what is around us is one of the routes by which God enlarges our hearts. And perhaps even more important is to be attentive to the people around us - people created, as we all are, in the image of God; people in whom we are to seek and serve Jesus Christ.

Wisdom: a Meditation

Sunrise on leaves frost-bitter, white veins thread;
Ice-carpet, green where reverent footsteps tread;
Knife-wound within of chill breath's deathly dread:
Heart etched
With winter's glory, bright where night has fled.

Paschal-fresh rays of primrose-morning throng;
Blossom of apple; blackbird-anthem strong;
Fragile exuberance of growth and tongue:
Heart etched
Mind stretched
By life-affirming joy, bright nature's song.

Noonday with ceremonial blooms impressed;
Sentinel-stately trees, soft-shade-caressed;
Dapples on limpid water, peace-possessed:
Heart etched
Mind stretched
Soul sketched
In vivid contours, with bright-burning blessed.

Sunk sun on mellow harvest-field; night clear;
Perigree moon brings star-flecked cosmos near;
Ecstatic, touch; bright heaven, bright earth hold dear:
Heart etched
Mind stretched
Soul sketched;
Love fletched,
Piercing desire with wisdom-wounds sincere.

(c) Christopher Wilson 2014