by Vincent | Sep 27, 2022 | General Interest, Reflections, Religion
How many years can a mountain exist before it is washed to the sea
and how many years must a people exist before they’re allowed to be free
yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
and pretend that he just doesn’t see?
The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind
the answer is blowing in the wind.
These lines seem to have a place in this weekend’s gospel passage. We know the story well. Lazaurs, a poor man, sits at the door of a wealthy man who fails to take notice of him. Lazarus, would willingly have eaten the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table but even these were not offered.
It is interesting that the poor man is named and the rich man is not. This flies in the face of society where we all know the names of the rich and famous, follow celebrity lifestyles and are interested in their comings and goings. Whereas the poor still can all to often go un-noticed and remain un-named. It is no accident that Jesus names the poor man. He is calling out to us to notice, recognise and respond to the needs of the poor. This is not always easy and, at times, can be very challenging but the call remains. We are asked to do what we can. It does not have to be over the top but efforts should be made to notice and care.
We are further told that when Lazarus died, he was carried to the “Bosom of Abraham” – to Heaven whereas the rich man died and “was buried.” We know the rest of the story.
During the week I was in New York and going down the excalator to Penn Station, I noticed a woman standing at the bottom of the steps. She was holding a cardboard notice in her hands. As I drew closer, I could read some of the writing: “I feel I am invisble. Nobody sees me. All that keeps me going is my faith.” She had her eyes closed and let the notice speak. Though I read the notice, I walked past her and feel guilty about that. It is so easy to walk past someone but not always the right thing to do. Sometimes we can justify it by saying if we gave money, the person might use it to buy drink or drugs – waste it. They might and that would be a pity but it should not stop us helping when we are able. Once we give the gift, it is no longer ours. Gift forfeits ownership and it is up to the recipient to do whatever with that gift. The hope is that he or she will do the right thing for themselevs and their families.
There is a wake taking place in the Parish Centre here today. It is a wake for a retired firefighter who died in recent days. On September 11th, 2001 he responded like many of his colleagues to the disaster unfolding at GROUND ZERO. His brother, a firefighter too, lost his life that day. This man suffered the effects of inhalation from that day and battled sickness through the years. May he rest in peace.
What does the firefigther do? He or she responds to the needs of others – they are at the end of the 911 call. Lazarus is the caller today and we are the ones asked to respond to his needs.
The death of this firefigther brings me back to my own teenaged years and watching an Irish Firefigther being interviewed on a late night chat show at home. He was speaking about a charity he was setting up. He went on to outline where the idea for and the need for this charity had its origins. He too had responded, with colleagues, to a 999 call. It was not a fire but a call to a flat where an old man lived. He lived alone and had not been seen for some time. They had to break into the flat and found the man dead there. He had been dead for sometime. May he rest in peace.
The man being interviewed, Willie Bermingham (R.I.P.), said he could not get the image out of his head. The man had died alone and had lived his final years in terrrible conditions. He died alone and surrounded by dreariness. He felt it should not have to be like that for anyone. Bermingham set up a charity. He called it ALONE.
Alone, because that is how the man died but also because he felt the very word had a message.
ALONE – A Little Offering Never Ends.
Lazarus deserves to be noticed.
by Vincent | Sep 27, 2022 | General Interest, Reflections
The days are passing and home is in view. I have enjoyed the time here very much but am happy to be going home – which is always a good sign for me, that I am content where I am.
I celebrated a wedding here on Saturday and it has been a few years since I did that in this parish. It was lovely to be involved and to share the day and beginning of married life with Maeve and Eric. Wishing them every blessing now and always …..
On Saturday evening, I met with some cousins of mine who live here in Rockville Centre. We meet each year and they kindly take me to dinner. We really had a fine meal and it was great just to sit with them, chat a while and laugh a lot! Afterwards a phtograph was taken and in this one the two husbands were left out, being told “You are not blood relatives”!!! They took it okay and one of them took the photo!
Over the weekend, I had the chance to meet with some people that I was happy to see. Three generations of one family came to Mass on Sunday morning and we went for some food afterwards. I was happy to see Marian, Tara and Fallyn (Marian, being a niece of the late Marie Sharkey, Urlaur). Later in the day I went into to New York to meet Joe, Elizabeth and Lorraine – my Kitimagh connection. We had a lovely afternoon together and it was great to catch up with them. I wandered around for a while, went to St Patrick’s Cathedral but there was a line waiting to get in and I don’t especially like lines. I’d not have stood in line for the Queen’s funeral – not that she would be overly disappointed or upset by that! May she rest in peace.
As I walked towards the railway station, my eyes caught the registration of a car parked in a street. I felt I had to take a picture of it and admire the wit of the owner but doubt, even if I could select my own registration that I would ever put this number on a car I might own. Would you?
When I got back here on Sunday evening the streets were closed in preparation for a funeral that was to take place in the Cathedral on Monday – the funeral of a man who retired from the FDNY about six months ago but who has battled illness since attending at the scene of 911’s terror attack. He lost his brother that day. God rest them both.
The funeral was this morning and I went out to see the arrival. It was a most impressive operation, very dignified and respectful. It is clear that a very strong bond exists between these firefighters. That bond keeps them safe at work, in most cases, and deppens their frienship.
I noticed the flag last night, draped between two fire engines and when I read up on it, the symoblism is around the bridge between life and death, earth and Heaven. The flag flew again today, albeit at a different location to last evening.
So the days are drawing to a close but, as in other years, I have many happy memories to bring home with me. I am thankful to all who have made them possible.
by Vincent | Sep 24, 2022 | General Interest, Reflections
For the past few weeks I have been back in Rockville Centre, New York. It’s difficult to believe but it is twenty-five years since I came here first; that time to St Patrick’s Parish in Huntington. I went there for two years and then started to come to the Cathdral of St Agnes in Rockville Centre. With the exception of the dreaded “Covid” years, I have been here every year since 1999. I stay here for three weekends and supply cover where needed. Some people refer to it as a “busman’s holiday” but I really enjoy being here. I enjoy the different setting for a few weeks and especially enjoy getting to visit with people I know from home and others that I have met through coming here.
This year I spent sometime with my aunt in Richmond and that too is always a special opportunity to be with somoene who has been part of my life for so long. Next month, please God, she will celebrate her 99th Birthday.
I travelled to Washington DC by train and was met there by two people I met on my first visit here, back in 1997; Corky and Jeannie Korves. They have become dear friends and proved the depth of that friendship by many repeated kindnesses through the years. Recently they moved to a new home and I had the chance to visit them there, spend a night and enjoy their companay. That evening included dinner with their son Chris and his family who live not too far from them. Chris’ daughter, Maeve, baked a beautiful cake because, as I was to find out that night, it was “International Chocolate Day”. How could I have known!!
The next day I travelled with Corky and Jeannie to Richmond where we went to Mary Margaret’s home. It was great to see her and to meet Susan who spends some time with Mary Margaret during the week. We celebrated Mass together in the house and then went for lunch to a wonderful restuarant called “The Can Can” and we did did!!
I spent the evening with Mary Margaret and we chatted and remembered. She is very good at both! The next day, I caught the train back to New York. A long journey enough, of more than six hours. It was great to be able to do it.
On returning to New York I found myself in a new part of Penn Station. It is called Moynihan Hall and was opened in January 2021. It is named after an Irish American Senator and is a fine building. It has been many years in the planning and will, quite likely this year, mean that trains can travel from Long Island (LIRR) directly to Grand Central Station. This will be a major advantage to people and I look forward to travelling that route next year, please God.
I was in Crestwood where I met a Mullaghroe woman, Noelle McEnerney (McLoughlin) and her daughter and son. Her husband Tom was away at work so did not meet him but might yet! Noelle and her daugher Niamh took me to a lovely park, close to them and we spent some time there. The park features the Untermyer Gardens and is in Yonkers. We had a lovely walk there and I was very happy to have been able to visit. Again, Noelle is someone that I have managed to visit every year since I started coming here and it is always a good experience.
Later in the day, Noelle dropped me to the home of other friends; Carrie, Guillermo and Beatrice. Carrie is daughter of Jeannie and Corky and again I met her on my first visit here in 1997.
We had dinner, chatted for a while and I headed back to “The Island”
This is thr Cathedral at Rockville Centre where I spent most of my time. There are numerous Masses here every day (6.30am, 7.45am, 9.00am and 12.10pm) as well as weddings and funerals. At the weekend there are two vigil Masses in the Cathedral (one in Spanish) and one in the Parish Centre with Masses on Sunday at 7.00am, 8.00am, 9.30am, 11.00am, 12.30pm and 5.00pm. A busy place! I celebrate some of these Masses and it is a lovely experience. I am amazed by the attendance at the Masses. The daily Masses would each have at least 100 people in attendance and many times that at the weekend Masses. My first Sunday here, I met a couple outside and the young woman asked me what part of Ireland I am from – “Sligo”, I replied. “Me too,” she said, “I am from Tubbercurry”!! This year, in addition, to the regular Masses, I celebrated a Funeral Mass and a wedding.
I met Tony Hunt, a classmate from St Nathy’s during the week. We had met a few weeks ago at our Class Reunion in Ballaghaderreen and he said he would be in New York for a meeting and that we might get together. I am glad of that and enjoyed the conversation and sharing memories. Later that night, I met Denis Matthews, another friend from Maynooth days and we had dinner. I meet Denis each year and, once again, am always glad to connect with him.
This year, I met someone I had not met before. This came about because last October a man died in New York and I was asked to pray for him at Mass in Tubbercurry. His name is Jimmy Neary and he came from Tubbercurry. As a young man he emigrated, like countless others, and ended up working in a restaurant and eventually owning his own – Nearys on 57th Street. I watched his Funeral Mass on line. It was celebated by Cardinal Dolan a friend of Jimmy’s and a regular in his restaurant. Fifth Avenue was closed for the funeral procession and it was obvious that Jimmy was held in high regard by many. A few weeks ago, after Morning Mass in Cloonacool, Mattie Brennan told me that a street had been renamed in Jimmy’s memory. I decided to go there, take a picture and have it for Mattie when I would go home. I looked up the restaurant on line to get the address and decided to send a quick email to Jimmy’s daughter, Una. She replied immediately and invited me for dinner in the restaurant. I told her that was not my intention and she replied “I know, but it is mine!” I went to the street and took some photos but did not go in on that occasion. I returned there a few evenings later and met Una, a joy to meet. She has such a clear grasp of her father’s Tubbercurry and spent most of her summers there as a child. The restaurant was lovely, homely and very Irish.
As I left Neary’s, Una asked me how I was getting to Penn Station. I told her I would walk and she said to be careful. I pointed out that every street corner was swarmed with Police (UN meeting on in NY these days) and she said “You are right, there could not be a better night to walk!” I did and clocked up nearly 25000 steps that day – from the walk in New York and an earlier visit to the boardwalk at Jones’ Beach with Noelle McEnerny and her sister Kay Breen. My best walking day ever but I did have the pork chops in Nearys!!
A few days to go …. a few more to meet and maybe a few more lines for here.
Thanks for reading!
by Vincent | Sep 23, 2022 | Reflections
I write these lines in advance of a class reunion in St Nathy’s College, Ballaghaderreen. It will see former pupils and classmates, who sat the leaving cert in 1981, gather to mark the forty years that have passed since those June days
The intention was to have this gathering in 2021 but, like lots of other things, that idea had to give way to the unwelcome presence that was, and is, COVID 19. In any case the idea remained and, thanks to a few members of the class who were anxious this would happen, the reunion takes place with people travelling from England, Australia and the United States as well as from all over Ireland. A WhatsApp group has kept us in contact for many months now and the sharing there was a bit of an eye-opener, tear-jerker and memory awakener.
Sadly, some of our classmates have died and some were not contactable but more that forty of that leaving cert class have responded and will meet. What will happen? What will be said? What will come of it all? At this moment in time, I have no idea! Perhaps I should have left this piece until after the reunion but, as Magnus Magnusson used to say, “I have started so I’ll finish”!!
One of the things that surprised and shocked me was the number of names that appeared in the WhatsApp group that I had forgotten. No doubt, my name, likewise, for others in the group. I suppose this really should not be that surprising as we all went our different ways that summer and, unless you lived local to someone or happened to go to the same college or profession, chances are that paths would not regularly cross. They didn’t for most of us and names brought back many memories.
Many of our teachers, including most of the priests who were on the staff of St Nathy’s during our time there (1976-81) have grown old, retired or died. As a priest of the diocese of Achonry, I was in contact with all of them through the years but not so for my classmates. In those early WhatsApp exchanges, a name might be mentioned with “Where is he now?” and, in many cases, I was the one to reply: “Sadly, he has died, R.I.P”. The same true of many of our lay teachers. I think of people like Frs Michael Joyce, Tom and Bob Flynn, Andy Johnston, Michael Giblin, Greg Hannan and some of our lay teachers like James Flanagan, Peadar O’Flaherty and Liam Carron – may they all rest in peace. My classmates were generally saddened to hear of these deaths, though we might not always have seen eye to eye with every teacher, nor they with us!!
As I have reflected on this Class Reunion, I am reminded of Masses I have celebrated through the years with children in sixth class of many primary schools. I have heard myself speak to them, asking them to roll the clock on twenty or thirty years into that place we call future. I tell them that they might be still in the parish or maybe in Adelaide or New York, Boston of Birmingham and whatever technology will be used for communications will alert them to a class reunion of their sixth class. I ask them to think about how they will respond. Will they delete? Will they re-read and decide: “Yes, I am going to be there?” If that is the response, plans will be made around travel, family, and work so that the reunion can take place. Could they imagine themselves not wanting to be there? I think most of them, could not.
Certainly, they would not believe that names mentioned might lead them to ask: “Was he, was she in my class?” As I speak to them in their classroom or assembly hall, they know each other so well. They can’t imagine that the passing of time might change that but, sadly, it does.
I finish by saying to them: “Don’t wait for thirty, forty or fifty years. The reunion is happening now – it happens every time you see each other, speak to other, share a game with each other, learn from each other and laugh with each other.
The reunion is NOW! Yours too, dear reader. Don’t wait to meet friends. Do it today.
____________________________
We had the reunion in August. A wonderful gathering and a joy to see so many there.
by Vincent | Sep 23, 2022 | Reflections
It’s September and I am anxious to renew my connection with this blog. I miss it!
SInce COVID I have been using Facebook a lot. Those of you who know me, know that I was not a Facebook user, or indeed a fan. I began to use it more during COVID and found that it was a great way of connecting with people. I have continued to do that but this was my first place of connection and I want to remain loyal to it
So, more regular updates here. Some might be shared from Facebook posts but for those who do not use Facebook, I want this to be a place of contact too.
Keep in touch,
Vincent
