Celebrating Union in Union

Celebrating Union in Union

On Friday June 27th, I had the happy duty of celebrating the Wedding Mass of Sinéad Gray and Bob Coggins.  I’ve known Sinéad since she was a young child during my five years in Collooney Parish and have, through the years, kept in contact with her parents Brendan and Sheila, herself, brother and sister.  Always a welcoming home, I was happy to be part of this celebration – the first of their family weddings.  They live in a lovely part of Collooney parish, immersed in what is known as Union Wood. Appropriately, Sinéad’s father is in the “wood” industry and a gifted tradesman.

The Wedding Mass was in Collooney Church, a favourite of mine and the reception afterwards at the back of Sinéad’s home.  Well the “back” is a bit of an understatement!!  The entire area around their home was turned into a venue – including the construction of a “honeymoon” suite by her father.  It was an amazing and beautifully local setting. Full credit to all involved.  And there were many involved!

I came home after a lovely meal and left, what I have no doubt, was a wonderful and musical celebration of a memorable day.  Took a few photos along the way so sharing  ….

Insofar as you helped ….

Insofar as you helped ….

An amazing few minutes of video – far outweighing the team performance on the World Cup Stage (in my opinion) but due, nonetheless to the passion that it so universally unfurls.  There are great people in this world.

[youtube=http://youtu.be/tSIaAzuHhPo?rel=0]

Take off your shoes – you walk on Holy Ground

Take off your shoes – you walk on Holy Ground

photoThe past few days I have been in Dalgan Park, Navan, Co. Meath.  It is the home of the Columban Missionaries.  A fine facility, set on spectacular grounds it is home to many events, including Diocesan Priests’ Retreats.  It is to that end, I am here, with the priests and bishop of the Diocese of Ardagh and Clonmacnois.  The days have passed quickly and, thank God, gone well.  It’s always good to meet with priests like this and to hear some of their stories – humorous and otherwise.  I’m lucky to be able to do this.

The weather has been fantastic and the heat almost unbearable but a welcome change to winds and rain.  I walked a bit – though not as much as I could have or should have but that’s another story.

dalgancemetery

The cemetery here is amazing.  It is so well maintained and a sacred piece of God’s earth.  God rest all buried here – included among them Fr Frank Gallagher, an old family friend, who died in 2010 after more than seventy years of priesthood.

frfrankI heard in my youth that Fr Frank had been subjected to some tragic torture and treatment during his Missionary Days in Korea.  I never heard that from Frank, since he did not speak about this time but it seems certain that there’s truth in it.

Earlier today I spent a bit of time in the main chapel here in Dalgan Park and there’s a collection of pictures on the back wall, twenty-four in all, of members of the Columban Society who lost their lives tragically in the course of their “journeying for the Lord”.  Twenty-three of them are priests and one a sister.  May God rest their souls. They are not buried in Dalgan, most of them are buried where they were killed and for some, to this day, the whereabouts of their bodies is unknown. It was humbling to look at these faces – most of them very young – and to realise how much they were prepared to give.

Fr Frank Gallagher lays hands on me the day of my ordination

    Fr Frank Gallagher lays hands on me the day of my  ordination in St Patrick’s Church, Gurteen, June 1987

I took photos of the photos.  They’re not great quality but it’s my way of taking them home with me and, more than that, sharing them and their Ministry with you. (If you click on an image you will have the option of viewing in larger format and the captions will be more easily read.)

Further information available on the  Columban Website

 

Where is the good word?

Where is the good word?

Earlier today, whilst travelling to Castlebar for a wedding rehearsal I turned on the radio.  It was mid interview and a man (whose name I didn’t get) was talking about his grandmother who had given birth to a baby outside wedlock.  She had been sent to a home where she had her baby and stayed for two years to pay back, through work, the help she had received.  It was, of course, a sad story, made sadder by the fact that it had not been revealed by the grandmother during her lifetime.  My heart goes out to all involved.

He said she was sent to the home by a priest who was “helping her” and then with a sarcastic chuckle, he repeated the line “helping her” as if this could not have been further from the priest’s mind, intention or desire.  I wondered if maybe he was, in fact, trying to help her.  Is there room for doubt?  Is there, even a slim chance, that the man thought he was doing the right thing  by her in the circumstances?

In fairness, the presenter tried to broaden the canvas a little and said the problem was wider than the Catholic Church.  She said surely it was the woman’s family or families of women like her, who found themselves in this situation, that often turned their backs on them. He was determined in his response – the fault lay with the Catholic Church who controlled everything in society.  When she said the problem was also linked with other religions, there was no turning on his part.  The Catholic Church was to blame for it all.  She didn’t pursue her line of questioning and other contributors to the panel were quick to row in their support for the blame resting solely with the Catholic Church and its control.

I was saddened to think we have come to this place where we are blamed for everything.  My thoughts went again to the priest and the summary dismissal of any chance that he had in fact tried to help in what may have been the only way open to him.

All the while I drove to be with a couple preparing for their wedding day. I knew that from there I would go to the funeral of a relation and a priest and join others in prayer and support.  Yesterday I stood with another couple as they exchanged vows. Last week, with another.  A few days before that I sat with a young woman in her home, left empty by her father’s death and felt her pain as she sought to come to an acceptance that he was gone from her, and gone forever.  I spoke with a young man who was saddened by life’s journey and wanted no more from me than an open ear. I recalled visits to hospitals and homes to spend some time with people coping with illness.  I remembered the recent celebration of First Holy Communion in the parish and the joy I felt in seeing the happiness on children’s faces as they reached a milestone in life.

I thought of daily Mass in the parish and the, sometimes small but always devoted, attendance of those able to join with me around the Altar and thought of Sundays with a larger congregation, choir, people involved in various ministries and people passing by who might just join us because they happened to pass at that moment when we gather to worship on the Sunday in every week.

Twenty-seven years ago, this very day, I was ordained a priest in my home parish.  My parents were there, my family and many friends from home, from the seminary – people supporting me in the moment, wishing me well and telling me they’d pray for me.  I asked them to – I needed them to – and they said they would.  I’ve never doubted but they kept their word.  My parents are now gone from me but I still feel their support and presence.  Did they think I was becoming a priest so that I could control people, make life difficult for them or ever subject them to situations that they’d regret for the rest of their lives or into a new generation?  Did they think I’d treat any girl who came to my door, with a story of uncertainty, to a cruel fate that her grandchild would recount on radio forty years later?  Is that why I became a priest?

The answer to all these questions is, I believe, no!  I can say in honesty that I have never set out to hurt anyone in my life as a priest.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t done so.  I can nonetheless say I never intentionally sought to make life difficult for anyone.  I have, as far as I know, always tried to be helpful.  I cannot recall a time when I chose to ignore a genuine cry or whisper for help.

Do I think I am different from other priests? Of course we are all individuals and have our own ways but I don’t believe I am that different.  I think most priests operate out of a desire to help rather than hinder, encourage rather than discourage, praise rather than condemn, share the load rather than burden – in short, try to do their best.

At this evening’s Mass I praised, in all sincerity, the three children who were serving at the Altar. I told them, in front of the congregation, that I was proud of them.  Then I put the question – the wondering – if in thirty or forty years time they’re sitting in company and people are giving out about the church, about priests about our mistakes, will they just sit there, order another drink, sit quietly by or will they say, “That’s not my experience”? Will one of them say ” I remember a priest saying at Mass that he was proud of me”?

I’d love to think they would but sometimes the silence of people in the now of our confusion makes me sad.  Surely there are very many people out there who have had good experiences of the work of their local priests?  Surely there are very many who have felt the nourishment of their Faith and the strength of sacraments celebrated?  Where is their voice?  Where are their words?

Where is “the good word”?

Aunt Met

Aunt Met

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                                                                             Corky, Mary Margaret and myself!

 

Spending a few hours in Virginia! Met my aunt earlier in the home of our friends Corky and Jeanie. Good to catch up, if only for a short while.

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                                                      Jeannie and Mary Margaret share some iPad tips!

 

Earlier today,  June 10th, we celebrated Eucharist together at the kitchen table.  I always think it an appropriate setting for Eucharist as the table is the home’s Altar, on which is offered the fruits of life’s work and sacrifice. From it too, comes nourishment for the day – the journey.  Around it – stories told, thoughts shared, decisions made and,  so much more.

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                                                                                    After Mass – shared time

And one more thing …..  I was warned that I should wear my “hat” – by that, I think they meant baseball cap and, though I have one, I’m not a major fan but, for the record, I have a a cap and I wore it!

capped

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