There was a fine crowd at Mass today in Kilmovee. Given the weather conditions and state of the roads, I had expected a small attendance. Fair play to people for making the effort to mark the “Sunday in every week”.
I hadn’t planned on speaking at all but plans don’t always …. go to plan:)
In recent weeks, I’ve been at a few meetings in the diocese where we spoke about vocations to the priesthood. One of the questions posed was when was the last ordination in our parishes. I’ve thought about that a bit. The last ordination in my home parish of Gurteen was in 1988. The last in the neighbouring parish of Ballymote, 1985 and in Ballaghaderreen, 1992. In the past twelve years we’ve had two ordinations in the diocese. In Kilmovee, where I now minister, the last ordination was in 1981.
Interestingly in Ballaghaderreen, it is on record that in almost 100 years of the Brothers’ School, 100 priests were ordained. I can think now of six men from Kilmovee Parish who are currently ministering as priests but, as mentioned, the last of them was ordained 34 years ago.
A woman in the parish told me she could recall eleven people from her village that were in Religious Life when she was a younger woman. How many villages could say that today?
Anyway, I found myself talking about this today at Mass. The readings of the day pointed towards the need to say a few words. The first reading and Gospel, in particular, spoke of calls received and shared. The boy Samuel, heard a call in the night and assumed it was Eli calling him. Twice he went to him but Eli assured Samuel that he had not called him. The third time this happened, the penny dropped for Eli, and he told the boy to go back and lie down. If the voice comes again, he told him, “say speak Lord, your servant is listening”. So it happened. Eli’s role in this call is central. Had he not a clear notion of God himself, he could scarcely have pointed Samuel towards the opening of the ear, mind and heart to God’s call.
Equally, in the Gospel passage, the Messiah is found through the question “Where do you live?” The response, “come and see” allowed space and time for the questioners to come to know the Lord and hear his call. Having heard it, they went about sharing it with others, among them Simon, instantly recognised by Jesus as “the rock” – the solid one on whom the church would be built. The call to Simon came from God but its origins were in the voice of known friends who wanted to share, with him, the call they’d encountered whilst spending time with the Lord – coming and seeing.
We all then have a role to play in vocations and in extending the range of the call to others. The call may not be to us but THROUGH us. What can we do to share this call with other people?
I mentioned today that I am almost fifty-two years old. It’s small consolation that I am still regarded as one of the younger priests in the diocese. When I was ordained, a man in his fifties seemed so old to me! I wondered did I look old to the children in the parish. I decided on an instant survey:) Turning to Seán who was serving Mass with his sister, I asked “Do I look young or old to you Seán?” He didn’t avoid the question or hesitate with his answer – “Old”, he said. Seán deserves to see a younger face before him. I’m happy to be here with Seán and hope that he, and others, can be happy about that too. The fact remains, nonetheless, that Seán needs a younger priest to journey with him. There’s over forty years of an age gap between he and I. That’s too much.
Do we need younger priests? I believe we do. There’s a feeling now that if a young man expresses an interest in priesthood, maybe in his Leaving Cert year, that he’d be advised to go out, experience life, get a degree or a trade and, if he still feels this way in a few years, come back and explore the possibility. I can see where this thinking comes from and has value but I have to question it. At this same stage in life, schools are asking students to focus their exam subjects around what they want to do in life. CAO forms are completed where students select, in order of preference, their chosen college and, by implication, chosen career. If a young boy or girl, aged 17 or 18, expressed an interest in medicine, pharmacy, the Gardaí, nursing, teaching, farming – nobody would say, go away for a few years and think about it. If it’s still what you want, then go for it. Why should priesthood or religious life be different?
Yes, it’s true of course, that these other professions don’t have attached a call to remain single for life. Needless to say, that is a serious consequence but maybe one that a person can grow into, explore and, if too much to deal with, re-assess over the years of training. It’s almost certain that most people beginning training in any other walk of life are doing so as single people. It’s during the years of study and discernment, they make decisions around relationships.
There has to be a place in our church for young people, like Samuel, hearing God’s call and there has to be a place too, for Eli (you and me) to help people hear that call.
(The lines that follow are based on a few words shared at Masses here in Kilmovee Parish last weekend as we celebrated All Souls’ Day)
Many years ago I was coming out of Gurteen with my nephew. He was maybe four or five at the time. We passed by a house where a local man had a lot of machinery; diggers, low loaders, tractors etc. My nephew, Bill, looked at the machinery and then said to me: “Vinnie, which would you rather be – a priest or a machine driver?” I said “Ah, I think I’d rather be a priest Bill”. He continued to look back at the machinery and he said “Yeah, but if they had Hitachis when you were a young fellow, which would you have been?”
I’ve no doubt he’s forgotten that conversation but I haven’t! I often think about these moments of innocence and wonder. I think too of the fascination young lads, like Bill, have with diggers and heavy machinery. Quite often these are numbered among their first toys. Maybe it’s something to do with the size of them. They’re so much bigger than the car. Often they are brightly coloured – yellows, blues, oranges and the lettering on them is huge too. HITACHI in big bold lettering. Everything about them speaks of power and strength.
Maybe too it has something to do with the fact they can break open the ground. That’s what the digger does. Solid ground opens to its touch and work can begin. Always there’s a purpose to the breaking of the ground. Maybe it’s a ditch between two fields that’s knocked to make for a bigger field. It might be a hole for a well or the first opening of the ground to pave the way for the foundation of a new home. I remember Jim Fahy on the top of Barr na Cuige, asking Monsignor Horan what he was doing “I’m building an airport Jim, but don’t tell anyone”!! In the background a digger clawing its way into the earth so that the work could commence and be continued. Diggers, machinery – powerful and strong – open the ground and, always, with purpose.
In this month of November we recall the opening of the ground in many of our cemeteries to receive the reverenced bodies of people we’ve known and loved who have died. There’s a purpose in these openings as well. Machinery, more often than not, gives way to the local gravedigger or a family member, neighbour or friend who with shovel, spade and pick, open the ground with purpose. It’s a necessary opening that speaks of respect, reverence, grief and faith. We remember at this time, those for whom the ground has been opened and pray they know lasting peace. It’s a very raw memory for many who are still coming to terms with a recent loss. For others, it’s a call to remember an anniversary with a prayer or name on a November list. For all, it’s a reminder that we continue to be in relationship, in communion with those gone before us.
I recently read words from St Paul. (1 Corinthians 15:35-37) I don’t recall reading them before though I must have done. They came in the context of people asking Paul what form the resurrection of the body takes. What shape? What will we see again? Paul’s answer is very direct. He says it is a “stupid question”! He goes on to say that the seed planted in the ground bears no resemblance to the crop it produces. The glory of the crop far surpasses the planted seed. Think of a bunch of flowers. Look at their colour, take in their smell and then consider the seed from which they came. The seed, though essential, gives way to the glory and beauty of the grown crop or fruit.
I have to say I found these words very helpful to me. In recent years I have often wondered about my parents. I believe I will see them again but wondered what form they will take. What version of them will I see? Is it the parents I knew at the time of their deaths or younger versions? I didn’t know them in their absolute youth or prime so what will I see? Paul’s words have helped me realise I will know them for who and what they are. The people who gave everything for me but I’ll see them in a way far more spectacular than I could ever imagine. I’ll know them from the seed – from the planting, from all that bound and continues to bind us as one but in a way I could never imagine. The seed gives way to the flower.
We remember then all gone before us. We remember the necessary opening of the ground – an opening with purpose and pray God’s rest for all those we have known and loved. We pray increased faith for ourselves as we continue the journey of life.
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An aside!
I looked for the clip from Barr na Cuige and came across this. Ground well broken!
I sat at Mass in Kilmovee this morning and listened to Seán Moran read the First Reading from Isaiah. The opening line is so direct: “Seek the Lord while he may still be found” …
I had a few words loosely prepared and they floated around somewhere in my head. Seán’s line seemed to displace them – as if they weren’t already displaced enough! I read the Gospel Passage about the workers going into the vineyard at different hours of the day, even to the final hour and each receiving the same wage. The grumblings of the early morning worker are quickly voiced but the “Landowner” reassures he has done nothing wrong or underhand. If he chooses generosity that should not be the cause of any grief. A story of jealousy, envy but above all of the Love of God for all who turn towards his Vineyard with an open heart and working hands …. A lot there!
Everything in me wanted to forget about that passage and chance a one line homily! I even told the people that. I said I often wished I had the courage to just say one line and sit down. I told them too that I realised many present would support me in that and hope “today’s the day”!! Well it sort of was and it wasn’t. I told them if I had that courage, I’d just say:
SEEK THE LORD WHILE HE IS STILL TO BE FOUND ….. and sit down
I sort of did that but not quite. A few words around it but really there’s plenty in that line so for anyone (myself included) sitting in front of these words right now, maybe it’s time to “Seek the Lord while he is still to be found”. Don’t let distance of time or place obscure the search.
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From cbc.ca website
At the end of Mass I mentioned that today is Leonard Cohen’s 80th Birthday. He is someone I’d love to meet, though I am certain that will not happen. There’s something about his words, his grace and style that combines to say so much. I mentioned the chorus from his famous “Anthem” and offered it as a Post Communion Reflection.
“So ring the bell that still can ringforget your perfect offeringthere’s a crack, a crack in everythingthat’s how the light gets in”
Let’s recognise that crack today, be it a hairline fracture or gaping hole and allow it bring light to darkness, hope to despair, faith to doubt …..
Happy Birthday Leonard
ANTHEM
The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what Has passed away Or what is yet to be. Ah the wars they will Be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again Bought and sold And bought again The dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in.
We asked for signs The signs were sent The birth betrayed The marriage spent Yeah the widowhood Of every government Signs for all to see.
I can’t run no more With that lawless crowd While the killers in high places Say their prayers out loud. But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up A thundercloud And they’re going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring
You can add up the parts But you won’t have the sum You can strike up the march, There is no drum Every heart, every heart To love will come But like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in. That’s how the light gets in. That’s how the light gets in.
It’s been ages since I’ve posted anything. Not sure why that is! Maybe my laziness is reaching into cyberspace too …..
I had a good few weeks and was sort of busy, thank God. I was involved in two Diocesan Priests’ Retreats (Tuam and Armagh) and was very happy to meet decent and good men in both settings. It’s a bit daunting to speak to other priests about the life we are trying to live but, thankfully, both groups made me very welcome and allowed me great freedom to be me! For that, I was and am grateful.
We had First Holy Communion in the Parish as well and that was a lovely occasion. Eleven of our youngest parishioners were involved and they all did so well. I was proud of them all and thankful to their teacher, parents, families and all who supported them along the road to their special day.
My Ordination Class had its annual gathering too and I was happy to meet a number of my classmates there. One of them seems to be a regular reader of this blog!! He even knew about “BOBBY’S” rambles to me.
There have been two funerals in the parish in the last few weeks. Both good people, God rest them, and bless those left to mourn. Funerals are so important and it’s very reassuring to see how people rally around one another over those important days.
I was in Donegal yesterday and managed to catch up with a priest I’d not seen in many years – Fr Colm O’Gallchoir, the parish priest of Killybegs. I met Colm first in 1986 when I spent part of the summer as a deacon in St Gabriel’s Church, Holloway Road, London. He was a good man then and times have not changed him. He showed me around the Parish Church in Killybegs and it’s a credit to all involved. Took home a few ideas with me so we’ll see how they go …..
I’ve a wedding at the weekend in Dublin and look forward to that and to meeting the couple again. Hoping to call to a house, while there, to visit a family whose daughter I baptized a few years ago and who, on Saturday, celebrates her First Holy Communion. It’s good of the family to remember me and I hope to get to see them at some stage on the day.
Hoping to go to Lough Derg on Monday for a Day Pilgrimage from the parish. At the moment there’s about nineteen travelling but we might pick up one or two between now and then. I hope it goes well.
Anyway, that’s the story today … must make a better effort to keep blog updated.
For the third year, we gathered on Easter Sunday Morning for a Dawn Mass in the grounds of Urlaur Abbey. There was a fine gathering of people from the parish and beyond – some from Ballymote, Curry, Charlestown, Carracastle, Knock, Kiltimagh, Ballaghaderreen, Monasteraden and, I’m sure, other places. It was lovely to see so many come together to welcome “hope” on Easter Sunday.
I shared a few words there, as I had done at the Vigil Mass and, again at the later Masses of Easter Day.
I mentioned that I was moving a bookcase in my bedroom earlier in the week and that a bank card fell on the ground. I felt it wasn’t mine but I stooped to pick it up and noticed it was a card of my mother’s. It expired in 2008, a year before she herself entered Eternity. I said I looked at the card for a while and it was the standard issue – embossed lettering giving her name, the expiry date and other details, the logo of the bank and the little security tag. In effect, a piece of plastic.
It was when I turned it over its full story unfolded. On the back I saw my mother’s signature. The writing was shaky but the name and signature hers. I found myself sitting back on my bed and crying. I cried, not flowing or endless tears, but those tears that well up in the eyes, burn a little and surprise you by their arrival. Real tears nonetheless that both shocked and reassured me. Shocked insofar as they were not expected and reassured to the degree I realised yet again, the strong bond that exists within family and among loved ones. It is a bond that transcends time and bursts open graves. There was a presence in that signature.
What struck me most was remembering my mother say to me many times; “Nobody will ever love you as much as I do”. I have two brothers and I have no doubt her love for them was as strong but I suspect she may have said this to me more often since they have families of their own. It struck me, as I looked at the bank card, that she was saying to me I’d never be alone and that her love would always be there. (So too, and I know this for certain, my father’s, R.I.P.)
I wondered though how seriously I took her words to heart when she spoke them. Did I really allow them in? Did I fully believe what she was saying? Though, I’m happy enough I believed it, chances are I didn’t fully understand.
That’s the link with the Easter Story in my mind this weekend. The women go to the tomb on Easter Sunday morning, not to meet the Risen Christ but to anoint a dead body. Time had denied them the opportunity on the Friday evening in the shadow of the approaching Sabbath so he was buried without the customary anointing. They felt badly about this and wanted to set things right. So, it was to visit the dead they went that morning, not to witness the central teaching of our Faith, that “he is risen”. The Angels told the women that he had, in fact, risen and added “as he said he would”. That’s the line that hit me very much this weekend – “as he said he would”.
They heard him say it but seemingly it hadn’t sunken into their hearts. Yes, they believed but, no more than my mother’s words, they hadn’t fully grasped that he absolutely meant what he was saying.
Jesus used words well. He would have been quite at home in the world of “Twitter” and “SMS” where a few characters tell a story that far outweighs their numbers. It’s not that Jesus was mean with his words or careful how much he said. He said what needed to be said and, more than that, he meant it.
Maybe we need to hear his words again – perhaps some of our favourite phrases from the Scripture – and allow them sink in, be real, understood and believed.
I told the people on the shore in Urlaur (and at other Easter Masses last weekend) that I’ve told them many times I am proud of them, happy to be with them, grateful to them and I wondered did they really believe me or think these were just words falling from an open mouth? I mentioned my classmate, Archbishop Eamon Martin, whom I’d seen on TV during the week. He was speaking at a presentation of awards to young people in the Archdiocese of Armagh and said that the young people were not our “future” but were, more vitally, our “present”. I had not thought of it in that way before. I said that I had tried to encourage young people over the years to be involved in parish life since they are the new generation and the builders of the church of tomorrow but, listening to Eamon, I had it wrong – they are our “now” – it is today we need them, depend on them, hope in them and call them to life in the Faith. Again, I did not want these to be words they hear but don’t believe. I’d like to think, I’m saying what I believe, despite my own confusions and uncertainties from time to time.
“Nobody will ever love you as much as I do” …. a plastic card, a shaky signature but a totally TRUE statement.
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