The Prodigal Son, having come to his senses, returns home to a waiting father. The prepared and rehearsed speech is surplus to requirement. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you ….”, yes he delivers it but it’s by the way. The father has already made up his mind. He is happy to have his son home, orders that he be dressed in the finest and fed with the best. Happy story. Well not quite!
The other brother can’t share the joy. Before he gets the chance to encounter the joy, he is given the “breaking news” by one of the servants. “Your brother has come home. Your father killed the calf we had been fattening because he got him back safe and sound. He’s celebrating the return with a massive party …..”
Enough said! There’s no going in for the other brother. He cannot share the joy for or enthusiasm around this moment. When the father comes to plead with him to come in and join the celebration, he leaves the father in no doubt. He wants nothing to do with it. He points out the shortfalls in the father’s treatment of himself. No celebration even though he stayed “down on the farm”. But when this “son of your’s” (not brother of mine) comes back after squandering your money “he and his women” the fattened calf is killed.
Two problems here, I think. Jealousy and gossip. Equally dangerous. The brother’s jealousy of his brother allows not for the meeting of hearts. The news report from the servant, admittedly asked what was happening, inflames anger.
Jealousy and gossip should be kept at arm’s length all the time. Jimmy McCarthy has a fine song about gossip. He calls it “the carrier of scandal”. I don’t know all the words but it goes something like this:
“The first to arrive
The last to go,
the last you’d tell
and the first to know …..
So keep one eye open
wherever you go
for the carrier of scandal
and his travelling show
keep your heart in your pocket
and a lock on your tongue
for the carrier of scandal”
People like that should be kept at arm’s length. They’re up to no good and out for nobody’s good. I’m reminded of “The Bird” in John B. Keane’s “The Field”
The thought for today … avoid jealousy and avoid gossip.
Next Saturday I’m due to lead a Lenten Retreat at the Galilee Centre, Boyle. I’ve been there before and it’s a very special place – lovely location overlooking the lake.
The nearest landmark to it is the “GAELIC CHIEFTAIN”, that noble horse and horseman overlooking the Curlews. I like that piece of art a lot, not least because I know the man who created it – Maurice Harron. Maurice lived in Cloonloo for a number of years and was a family friend. Though we’ve lost contact in recent years, I still number him in that category and know that were we to meet tomorrow there’d be plenty to speak about.
The Community in Galilee asked me for a theme for the day and one of Leonard Cohen’s songs came to mind. It’s called “COME HEALING” and there’s a powerful line in there that says: “The splinters that you carry, the cross you left behind” and that struck me as a good title for the day.
Now to put something with that title! I wonder would any of you be willing to offer a few suggestions? I won’t publish them if you don’t want me to but maybe they’d help me to focus on what people might want, having taken a day out of their lives, to come to Galilee.
So the thought for today: The “horseman” is a landmark, made all the more real and meaningful because I know the hands behind it. We need landmarks in life and we need to know “The Creator” too.
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These are Cohen’s Lyrics for “COME HEALING”
O gather up the brokenness
And bring it to me now
The fragrance of those promises
You never dared to vow
The splinters that you carry
The cross you left behind
Come healing of the body
Come healing of the mind
And let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb
Behold the gates of mercy
In arbitrary space
And none of us deserving
The cruelty or the grace
O solitude of longing
Where love has been confined
Come healing of the body
Come healing of the mind
O see the darkness yielding
That tore the light apart
Come healing of the reason
Come healing of the heart
O troubled dust concealing
An undivided love
The Heart beneath is teaching
To the broken Heart above
O let the heavens falter
And let the earth proclaim:
Come healing of the Altar
Come healing of the Name
O longing of the branches
To lift the little bud
O longing of the arteries
To purify the blood
And let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb
Earlier today I went to Knock. I had two reasons for going. So far, so good!!
One was food:) I went to Le Cheile which is located on the grounds of the Shrine and is a very good place for lunch. (Trip Advisor how are you??) I had a lovely bowl of Seafood Chowder and an equally lovely homemade burger with onion rings and a very tasty mashed potato. The first part of my journey plan was a success. I left as happy as I was filled.
The second reason was to pay a visit to the Basilica to see the new mosaic that was unveiled on Sunday last. I’d seen images and a short video clip on Twitter but knew that the real thing had to be seen. I was not disappointed there either.
It’s a lovely piece of work. Somebody mentioned the other night that it is the biggest mosaic in Europe. I don’t know whether that’s true or not but, as they say, “I’m only saying”! Certainly it is imposing, impressive and, most importantly, an invitation to enter a Sacred Story.
The colours are stunning and the capturing of the falling rain is clever and a reminder of the power of the moment where people found themselves able to stand, transfixed and consoled, in the rain without seeking shelter. They’re all there. People of all ages, The Lamb on the Altar, Mary, Joseph and John The Evangelist, the stone wall, the gable wall – all captured as it has been explained to us through the years.
I looked at it in its entirety and enjoyed what was there to be seen. I tried to break it down a little. I focused on The Lamb of God which is, after all, the central message of the Knock Story. I looked at Mary, Joseph and John. I looked at the basket beside the kneeling woman and wondered. Was she the small boy in the crowd who had “loaves and fishes” to share? If she was, they seemed to be shared for it looked empty to me. Was she going or coming from somewhere? Either way the journey was interrupted and the basket being carried, had to be put down.
I saw a man on the right hand side of the mosaic, with his head lowered. The others were all looking but he seemed to have seen enough and knew that the response was to bow the head “daring not even raise his eyes to heaven” – Jesus spoke about a man like that one time too.
There were three that caught my attention more than the rest. An old man with a white beard. He could be found in any parish or old photograph in a family album. Family! That’s what caught my eye. Beside him was a younger man and with him a boy. The old man, looks to the boy and seems to be explaining something to him – the Faith, I’d like to think – while the son listens on. There’s a lesson for all. I liked the idea of the three generations being caught in the moment and the teaching role of the grandfather brought to fore. It sort of reminded me of “TRINITY”.
Anyway, I took a few photos. I’ll put them here and you can see what you think. The photos go so far but, for what it’s worth, I’d suggest you go and have a look yourself. You can have some “chowder” too!
I came away from the Basilica as full and satisfied as I left “Le Cheile”.
The restaurant was about 1.5km away and it seemed a good idea to walk. Would surely help make room for the food and give me a fighting chance against another uninvited pound or three:} I’d never walked this way before but Google Maps would ensure I stuck to the route. As I walked darkness fell and the two lads ahead of me became more focused in my mind. The road was very narrow. I began to think the taxi I had considered might have been a better option. One of the lads looked back. They seemed to slow down a little and, as I got nearer, they crossed to the other side of the road and stopped – for no apparent reason.
I kept going and passed them by. I didn’t look back but felt it likely they were now the ones following rather than being followed. The road suddenly seemed long and the 1.5km, though well eaten into at this stage, seemed more like a half marathon. The hills of Rome were having their moment!
I thought about it and felt if I’d known this was a potentially dangerous route I’d not have travelled. I thought how ignorance is bliss but the blissfulness was not uppermost in my mind just then. The narrowness of the road, the absence of lighting, the darkness of my clothes and the meeting cars only heightened my sense of isolation. Yet, the cars were a comfort. I thought their headlights were my strength – my companions on the way.
As I neared the restaurant I had to turn right so I chanced a quick look back. I was alone on the road. No men on the road – nobody behind me. I thought how foolish I’d been to let my imagination wander and smiled at the story I’d created in my mind – potentially scary and all as it was.
The others were in the restaurant before me. One of the men asked where I was staying and I told him. “How did you get here?” he asked. “I walked”, I replied. He went silent for a few seconds and said “You walked up the hill?” “Yes,” I said. “Oh, that can be a dangerous hill. I’d not have walked that way ….. it can be dangerous!” He used the word dangerous twice!
The meal was lovely and the company great. I shared a taxi on the way home!
The thought – if we know the road is dangerous we avoid it – not knowing doesn’t make it any less dangerous so “walking in the light” is possibly the key!
Many of us would welcome that chance. Another year, another day, another hour to get things right.
It’s so practical. The gardener sees potential in the non-productive fig tree whereas the landowner cannot. To him, it’s negative equity, taking up space that could be more effectively used. The man on the ground sees it differently. He knows that what is needed is there and, given time, the tree will produce its fruit.
Something here about patience and about second or third chances.
Year of Mercy! It seems certain that Pope Francis sees the good in us. It IS certain that God sees the good in us. He’s okay with another year. Let’s meet him half way!
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