Hard times

Hard times

Alone and hoping

I really don’t know how many people read this.  I do know that my “blog” is not the beginning and end of all blogs and that, in the wider scale of things, it has a minuscule part to play.  Still I enjoy it and the chance it gives to share a few thoughts.  I know these might reach more on FACEBOOK or something like that but, I like this little corner.  Thanks to those who come in and ramble from time to time.

It is not easy to know what to think, never mind say.  A week ago today, I was at a meeting with Fr Dermot Meehan, Diocesan Administrator, and some priests of our diocese.  We met to discuss how the diocese might respond to the COVID-19 outbreak and, more importantly, how it might help stem the spread.  Other dioceses had taken the hard decision to suspend the celebration of Public Masses in parishes, not just on Sundays but also weekdays.  As we met, it was likely we would make the same decision but it was not an easy one to contemplate, let alone make. One of the men present has celebrated daily Mass for close on fifty years and I could see in him a genuine sadness as he began to contemplate, like the rest of us, the possibility we would not be celebrating Mass with people for the immediate and, indeed, foreseeable future.  The decision was made and the message shared as quickly and fully as possible, firstly with our priests and then through media and website.  It was a sad moment but, maybe like Jesus in Gethsemane, a necessary one too because we had to face towards Calvary and the countless crosses being carried by people at this time.

On Sunday morning I stood before the Altar in Kilmovee Parish Church.  This would be the only Mass celebrated in the parish that weekend, when normally I would have four – two vigil Masses and two on Sunday – one each in Urlaur, Glann, Kilmovee and Kilkelly.  I took a photo of an empty church and me wearing the purple vestments for Mass.  The first picture I took, shocked me.  My face looked so sad and I thought I need to do this again.  The second picture (above) was an attempt to smile without pretending I was over the moon with delight.  For I was not.  My heart was broken, to be honest, and I wondered how long this would last.  I didn’t know then and neither do I know now.  What I knew was that faces, familiar and important to me, were not there.  No Altar Servers, having discussed at length who would do what.  No readers or Ministers of Holy Communion and an empty gallery.  The regulars were not there or the weekend visitors.  Just me!

As I walked out to say Mass I left my phone on the shelf in the sacristy and then thought maybe I should bring it with me and record the Mass.  I did, and am so glad I did.  In recording, I felt I was speaking to people and sharing God’s word and hopes for them.  After Mass I put the recording on our parish website and have done the same each day since.  No more than not knowing how many will read these lines, I am not sure how many listen but some responded and said it helped them.  I’m glad of that.

A week on now and no end in sight, I really don’t know what to say or think.  COVID-19 has punched way above its weight and what seemed so far away a few weeks ago is now in every moment of every day.  The world has truly become that “Global Village” people speak of and what happens on the streets of Barcelona or Boston, Shanghai or Sydney, Dublin or Dubai is all of concern to us.  We are truly frightened and vulnerable and isolation seems anything but social.

We need courage!  We need faith.  We need hope and we need love.  We need to mind one another and to allow ourselves be minded.  We need to realise that decisions taken have impacts and mistakes made have consequences.  There remains though, a real need to be able to trust – trust God and one another.  To have trust is maybe the gift we most need – trust that this hour, these days, weeks or months, will pass and that peace and health will be restored.

“They are the best years of your life”, people used to tell us about school when we were children.  “Yeah, right”, we might think but surely now we recognise the truth in those words.  Children should be able to enjoy the classroom and school yard where lessons are learned for and about life.  We look forward to the day when the sound of the school bell will be a welcome sound.

I look forward to hearing the servers decide who is doing what, I look forward to people rather than empty seats and the sound of a choir and congregation, rather than the echo of my solitary voice.  Please know, that I will use that voice to ask God to bless and protect all of us and to give us courage for this time.  I have been so pleased to walk into the churches of the parish and see there the signs of ongoing prayer – candles burning in the shrines, that gives me such amazing hope.

Maybe that’s enough for now … at least I found a few words and when I sat here I didn’t think I would .  We will find our words, all of us, and they might well prove to be words of kindness and appreciation, of gratitude and giving – words of faith.

 

 

Kilkelly St Patrick’s Day Parade

Kilkelly St Patrick’s Day Parade

The first ever St Patrick’s Parade in Kilkelly took place on the evening of St Patrick’s Day.  A wonderful turnout of people, a very well organised event and in excess of fifty floats and exhibitors ensured it was a successful beginning.  Well done to all involved.  Took some photos – more than I realised and thought I’d share here.  I hope that’s okay.

Well done to all involved and to all who turned out to mark the beginning of what could well become a much-loved tradition.

Where do you live?

Where do you live?

“Homeless Jesus” – a statue in Glasgow

It was a straightforward question enough.  So too, the answer: “Come and see”.

They did and “spent the rest of that day with him”. No mention of where they went, what they did or who they met. But whatever all that entailed, it took the rest of the day – no, more than that, the rest of their lives.

Do you ever wonder where they went? It’s strange that we’re not told but it seems certain they didn’t go to an address.

This picture above is of a statue of the “Homeless Jesus” and there’s a definite truth in it.  Jesus seeks to make his home among us, in our hearts and lives.  He is certainly found among the homeless and the searching, the poor, those who are lonely or hard-pressed.

I saw him this week in the eyes of a widow coming to terms with the death of her husband and again in the flowing tears of a man whose wife had just died.  Met him in the home of a young couple just weeks into being parents and amazed that love of a child is such an overwhelming feeling. I heard him in choirs singing, musicians playing and men and women of the parish, reading his Word into our hearing.

He lives in our midst.  You’d like to think he’d have brought his disciples to meet us.

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p data-css=”tve-u-160f11ea21f” style=”text-align: right;”>(From Kilmovee Parish Bulletin – 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time – 14th January 2018)

Back at base ….

Back at base ….

A visitor to the blog wondered if I’d become a “Kiltegan Priest” given that I’d mentioned Kiltegan in the last few posts.

I’m back in Kilmovee and have no desire to move a few miles let alone across the country or to a new continent.  I very much enjoyed the few days in Kiltegan though.  I met the finest of people there – about seventy priests attended the five day retreat and their welcome and encouragement truly gave me a lift and great sense of my doing something worthwhile.  I was happy to meet many of them at the table or for a chat and indeed the occasional walk.  My admiration for their commitment to the work they do and have done increased.  It was clear they were dedicated to their missionary life and, even in retirement, carried the people they met and with whom they worked very much in their hearts.

It was good to connect with people I’ve known, to have the chance to pray for some of those who have died and to get a sense of what it is like to live in a Missionary Society for a few days.  At Mass today, we remembered nine priests of the Society who died since the last gathering for a retreat. Among them Fr Leo O’Sullivan who was a good friend to my family and me.  We also recalled the anniversary of Fr Leo Sheridan whose nephew Leo was in my class in school.  Fr Leo’s brother, Gerry, was Garda Sergeant in Gurteen and it was good to make the link with their memory too.  May all who have died rest in peace.

Back now to doing my own little bit in my own patch.  Happy with that too.

Miles travelled ….

Miles travelled ….

Ordination Day - June 14th, 1987

Ordination Day – June 14th, 1987

Later today, we will gather in the Cathedral for the Funeral Mass of Bishop Tom Flynn.  May he rest in peace.

He was bishop of Achonry for close on thirty one years and I was just thinking he must have covered close on a million miles during that time.  Miles around the diocese and beyond in response to the call received to be the Shepherd – the good shepherd, who leaves not the flock unattended.

I first met him in September 1976 when I went to St Nathy’s as a First Year pupil.  He was President of the College and worked there with ten or eleven other priests and lay teachers.  It was, at that time, an all-boys school – boarding as well as “Day-Boys”.  I fitted into the latter group.  I was happy to go home in the evenings but, happy too, to spend a few hours there during the day.

Towards the end of the year (1976) it was announced that Fr Flynn was to be the new bishop of Achonry.  He replaced Bishop James Fergus who had been our bishop from 1947. He had retired the previous St Patrick’s Day but continued as bishop until a successor was appointed.  It seemed strange to know a man who was becoming a bishop and, though I can’t say I knew him well, I liked him as a President.

The students of the college pooled resources and contributed towards his Bishop’s Ring.  I recall it being presented to him and feeling happy that we had a part to play in something that would journey with him.  The ring had a purple stone and, in later years, bishops opted for a more plain style of ring but someone pointed out to me that Tom wore the other ring at many of our Ordinations.  It was probably his way of acknowledging the gift we had been part of.

I recall him coming out home to buy a car from my father.  It was a Peugeot 304 (SDI 245 – the registration as far as I remember) and he remained a customer and (more importantly) friend of my family from that day on.  I was grateful to him for that too ….

The parishes of the diocese were invited to submit names of people who might like to attend the Ordination.  I put my name in a box in the porch of Cloonloo Church.  I recall Fr Charlie Doherty sending me to collect it from the porch at the end of Mass so that the “raffle” could take place.  I was serving Mass that Sunday.  My name was drawn.  I was shocked and happy – never too lucky in raffles – but have reason to believe now, I might have been the only name in the box!!  That said, I was happy to be there and sat in the Cathedral on February 20th, 1977 as Fr Flynn became our bishop.

In 1981, I approached him about becoming a priest and he welcomed me and assured me of his support.  In fairness, I never felt far removed from that support.  Six years later, he came to Gurteen to ordain me and, to quote my father that day, it was “my happiest day ever”.  There seemed something homely about it all.  It was at home of course but, maybe more than that, we all seemed to know one another.

vincentordination

There were a lot of ordinations. I did a rough count yesterday and think Bishop Tom ordained thirty-one priests for the diocese during his time (others too – but thirty-one for the diocese) so you could say, on average, one a year.  During the years some have died or moved to other places in life but today I think twenty-two of the priests working in Achonry Diocese have been ordained by Bishop Tom.  The work of his hands – the “laying on” of his hands are, and please God, will be visible for some time to come.

He put a lot into it – certainly when able to do so.  He had a special awareness around Confirmation in a parish and used to visit the schools in preparation for the day.  Later that day, he’d meet the teachers after school, quite often for a meal and that night he’d meet the parents of the Confirmation classes in a local hall or venue.  It was a full day’s visitation and he seemed to take it in his stride.  Sometimes tiredness took its toll (on the priests more than Tom) and there’s a lovely story of Tom being in the middle of his “talk” when the Parish Priest who had obviously fallen asleep behind him, stretched and said “I think we’ll put on the kettle” – much to the amusement of the gathered parents and, in fairness, to Bishop Tom.

One of the things I liked about him was his availability to people, not least in times of tragedy.  How many homes he must have visited over the years where there was a sudden or tragic death – where parents grieved and communities wondered.  He seemed to be there with people at such times.

He had his share of ill-health but seemed to bounce back with an energy that was obvious.  Place mattered to him and I think Ballaghaderreen and its surrounds were central players in his story.  I’m sure he had dreams for the place that were not fully realised but efforts towards their completion were certainly part of his mission.  “Developing The West Together” was one of his dreams and, for all of us, that dream continues.  We live in hope and we hope with faith!

I had visited Bishop Tom a few times in the Nursing Home and he was always very welcoming – more welcoming than his condition would have allowed.  He certainly grew frail but his voice remained clear.  “Ah how are you at all?”  That was his usual greeting – often followed by a deafening silence!!  In fairness, he wasn’t always the easiest to sustain conversation with.  It would start with such enthusiasm but then wilt a little!  I think anyone who knows him – knew him – can identify with that.

Doubtless, like all of us, had he the chance to re-visit moments and approach them in a different way, it’s a chance he’d welcome.  Overall though, in the million miles travelled, he journeyed with good purpose and sought to make a difference.  He was happy to step back from it and entrust the work to Bishop Brendan and others.

“How are things in Kilmovee?” he asked me the last time I met him.  I shared a few bits with him but I knew the question was more an acknowledgement of who and where I was than a desire to update his files under “Kilmovee”!!  I’m glad I met him though – I know many of our priests visited him and I’m sure, though most likely he didn’t say it, he was happy to know he remained in our thoughts.  I asked him if there was anything he wanted “not a thing”, he replied.  That seemed to be the way with him – I’m sure he knew the days were shortening and his needs, from a material vantage point were few – it’s likely he was circling the wagons around his Spirit – I feel confident his prayers were heard.

“Hope House” was something he was very proud of.  I don’t know if he had any part in its naming but maybe it’s with that word “hope” I draw these lines to a close.

I hope he knows he made a difference.  I hope he rests in peace.  And, with him I think, we pray that our Church will never fail to have hope.

May he rest in peace.  Amen.

Mary Corcoran, R.I.P.

Mary Corcoran, R.I.P.

On Sunday, February 22nd 2015, I celebrated a Funeral Mass in Monasteraden.  The Mass was for Mary Corcoran who had died a few days earlier.  I’ve known Mary all my life and came to know her very well during the years I worked in Ballaghaderreen Parish where I had special care for the Monasteraden area of the parish.  Mary played the organ in the church and had an involvement in the choir for something in the region of eighty years – from her childhood days.  Her commitment was remarkable.  I was asked to be Principal Celebrant at her Funeral Mass and was honoured to accept that invitation and thankful to the priests of the parish and others who joined with me for the Mass – not least Fr James Sharkey, SPS, a cousin and lifelong friend of Mary.  I am going to share here the words used at Sunday’s Mass. I know Mary read this blog and I hope she approves of the inclusion of these words in her memory. In so doing, I offer my renewed sympathy to her son Michéal, daughters Noreen and Marie, to her sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, her grandchildren and Mary’s neighbours and friends.  I remember too, her son Philip, R.I.P. who died in June 2012.  

Mary Corcoran died!  I think that’s what she’d expect me to say today.  Not so sure she’d talk about having “passed” or “slipped away” – no she’d say “died”, “dead” ….  I remember writing in August 2009 “my mother died” – they were three words with just twelve letters but the brevity of their content didn’t reflect the enormity of their significance.  No less so for Mary’s children and their families here today.  This is a life-changing moment.  I don’t think she’d want it sugar coated or downplayed.  We are here because Mary Corcoran died.

And here we are!  We gather to say our prayers – with face to the Altar and back to the gallery.  Both places of huge significance for Mary.  It was at this Altar she was baptized, received Eucharist for the first time, stood beside Billy as vows were exchanged, brought her four for baptism, bade farewell to Philip – here she found strength for the journey, the faith to carry on and the gift to believe.  It’s certain this is where she wants to be right now – placed at the foot of this Altar so that prayers can be offered, memories evoked and thanks can be said.

The gallery too, in full voice and sound today re-echoes her countless notes played and sung in praise of his name.  The twelve letters I wrote in August 2009 and the eight notes of the octave, have in common the ability to take us elsewhere.  A church without music is an impoverished church.  A liturgy without music, though remaining liturgy, lacks a central element.  Mary ensured that was not to be the story in Monasteraden. Faithfully she climbed those steps, turned on the music, shared the notes and encouraged song.  She walked up and, I believe backed down but between the walking and the backing she made music happen and this church has been the better of that.  It’s great to hear that sound here again today.  Long, long may it be heard when “two or three” gather in His name!

I read somewhere during the week “Repent, so that the preacher doesn’t have to tell lies at your funeral”!!  I’m not here to tell lies.  I believe Mary Corcoran was a good woman.  Direct!  For sure!!  More than once she let me know when I got it wrong but many times more than once she let me know when I got it right!  She had a directness that was rooted in love of place and was always well intentioned.  She did not like to see anything diminish the place and “people make places” so, in many ways, she didn’t like anything that diminished people – her people (family), neighbours and the Church.  There’s a line in Scripture that speaks of “Zeal for your house consumes me” and I think it’s a line that ran deep in the veins of Mary.  We need people like that and we’re impoverished without them.

So here we are, in this Gospel moment – a meal has just been shared and the penny has dropped.  These two men have been walking the road and sharing a meal with Jesus.  It’s when he’s gone the fullness of that reality dawns.  We sometimes refer to this Gospel passage as the “Road to Emmaus”.  Lately I’ve been thinking of it more in terms of the Road from Emmaus.  The road to it is one thing but the road from it another.  Where do we go when the truth has dawned?  What do we do with and about that truth?  The men in the story re-traced their journey and told their story to those to whom they felt it would make difference so that they could tell it to others.

I think that’s where we are now!  Mary lived for almost ninety years.  She travelled but most of her travelling was local.  Walking, cycling or driving – her destination was quite often where we now gather – St Aidan’s Church.  She rejoiced with people on happy days and shared their grief on days of sadness.  She brought her family here and taught them how to pray.  She heard hymns she liked and took them to the gallery (the odd song too!!  “Isle of Inisfree!”).  She lit candles in the quietness of this Sacred Space and, in their flicker, remembered the dead and the living (I’m humbled to say, me among them).  She remained faithful when many, for a variety of reasons, walked away from Faith and practice.  This is where we are.  Mary’s road to Emmaus led her to encounter and recognise the Lord, even in the darkness of her son’s illness and death and to find strength for the journey.

Where to for her son, daughters and their families today?  Where to for the choir?  Where to for neighbours and friends?  Where to for all of us from this moment?  We can’t be sure where the road will take us but we can be sure we’ll not walk it alone.  Let all that was good in Mary be recalled?  Let the Faith loved by Mary be lived and let the song sung by Mary lead us to the chorus:

“With him, I am risen” …. May she rest in peace.  Amen.

Mary Corcoran, R.I.P.

Mary Corcoran, R.I.P.

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