Is there anything that can get us talking as much as we talk about the weather? The “beast from the east” is dominating much of our thoughts today and, in fairness, giving rise to some good humour too. I enjoyed this one:
Alas, it has the potential to be anything but funny. We remain hopeful though, that this too will pass.
Lenten thought: Are there any other things we need to talk about? Chances are there are conversations we need to have. Maybe the weather gives us the chance to begin some of them ….
On Monday night, I was in the Adoration Chapel in Kilmovee for a short while and I said Night Prayer. When finished, I looked through some memorial cards and other pieces that were tucked into the back of my breviary. One of the pieces of paper I found was this:
Holy Cross Cemetery, Brooklyn NY
It’s a map of Holy Cross Cemetery in Brooklyn New York. On the reverse side are some details around care of graves and reference to Region 19 and Plot Numbers 131 and 132. The paper is well faded and written on the side of it “burial 8/1/1918”. It refers to the burial place of a Grand-Uncle of mine called Michael Healey who died two days earlier on the Feastday of The Epiphany. He fell victim to the Great Flu.
My aunt in Richmond told me about this grave in July 2009. I was in New York at the time and in the company of some friends from Kiltimagh who kindly took me to the Cemetery and, following my aunt’s directions, we were able to go to St Joseph’s section of the Cemetery, find Region 19 and plots 131/132. The inscription on the stone reads “In Memory Of My Beloved Brother Michael Healey Died Jan. 6. 1918.”
My mother’s mother, Margaret Healey (Healy), worked in New York at that time. Her brother became ill, died and she saw to it that he was laid to rest. I’m told that it would have been both meaningful and costly for her to place the headstone there at that time. I’m assuming she made great personal sacrifice to do this. Sometime later she returned to Ireland and, again I am assuming, did so to tell her parents about Michael and to reassure them she had seen to it that he was laid to rest with dignity. It was her intention to return to New York and she had purchased a return ticket. On her way home on the boat, my understanding is, she met and befriended a girl from Cloonloo who was my grandfather’s sister who, in turn, introduced her friend to her brother. They married and she never returned to New York.
She kept the piece of paper though and when her son (my uncle John) went to America he brought the piece of paper and the memory behind it with him. I feel certain he too visited Holy Cross Cemetery and, in time, he shared this story with his wife – Mary Margaret – who, in turn shared it – and the paper behind it, with me.
On February 26th, 2018, I found myself looking at this piece of faded paper – I honestly don’t remember getting it but my aunt must have given it to me at some stage. It takes me back a century to a man I never met and brought him into my Monday Night Prayers.
Lenten Thought: It’s good to do the right thing by your people and essential that the stories that matter be shared. We are telling a very sacred Family Story in this Season of Lent. It must not be allowed fall on closed ears. It must be told.
I have mentioned Leonard Cohen many times over the years. There’s no denying he was a gifted writer and an able performer. Neither is there any denying that my knowledge of him barely scratches the outermost point of the surface of his life. He wrote with, and seemingly lived, passion.
One of his songs “COME HEALING” has to be rooted somewhere very deeply in his desire for that healing. He knows the benefits healing can bring and speaks to it wonderfully. Yet, it’s likely, the same healing eluded him for much of his life. He spoke one time about the day his father was buried – he was very young at the time – and was puzzled by this idea of his father going into the ground. Returning home after the funeral, he went to his father’s room and took out one of his bow ties. He cut a piece from it and buried it in the garden of their home. He said that he often felt the rest of his life was trying to remember where he buried it and what exactly he buried.
He speaks too, in the song “Come Healing” about the cross and the pain it brings to life. More than that, he speaks of the cross having been left down but the splinters carried, bring their share of pain.
Ideally it seems, cross and splinters should be left behind.
Lenten thought: what can we do today to leave behind the cross and their splinters? I know it’s not easy and a struggle but surely it’s worth thinking about …..
Urlaur Lake – reflecting the glory of a “transfigured” sky
There’s no denying the different view we get from a mountain top. What seems well known to us, takes on a totally new look when viewed from the vantage point.
Even when flying out of Knock, within minutes the ground beneath looks like a foreign land and we can be hard pressed to recognise even our own house or place. So while the view is good, we might easily lose contact with reality.
Is there something like that going on for the disciples as they encounter Jesus on the heights of Tabor? What was familiar to them takes on a new look and leaves them dazed and puzzled. “It’s wonderful for us to be here” and, no doubt, so it was.
The Lord, aware of that but also aware of the need to be rooted in reality gently encourages them to leave the view, return to ground level and make a difference there.
Lenten thought – on this Second Sunday of Lent how can we best reflect the view we’ve had from and on the mountain top of Faith?
Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows ….
They’re telling us that more cold weather is on the way! I hadn’t noticed that it had left:)
Snow is again a possibility. I like the snow insofar as you can take a few good photos but apart from that it literally “leaves me cold”. After Mass the other day, I saw two children playing outside the church. No theme park on earth could have had as much potential for fun. Snowballs, chasing each other, laughing and then, turning their attention towards me, an uninvited (and unwelcome) ambush!! I marveled at the potential the snow had to take them to another place – a deeper place maybe.
Later that day I received an email from a grandmother, visiting with her grandchildren. They had snow too. She sent a photo of their afternoon’s work. The snow delivered to them – an angel. Where another might see a dumpy shaped snowman, cap on head, buttons for eyes and carrot for nose – somehow an angel was found.
Maybe that’s today’s Lenten thought. Never doubt the potential to find an angel, even in the coldest of moments, most frightening of experiences or darkest of doubts.
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