by Vincent | Feb 10, 2016 | Reflections, Lent 2016
Last night was very cold and miserable. I went down to the church around 9pm for a few minutes and passed the astroturf pitch beside my house. There was a game in progress. Oblivious to the unpleasant weather, young men from the locality played a game of football as intense as any. Oblivious too, to their sole observer, I was in awe of their dedication and enthusiasm. Far from the corporate box, I stood alone on the road, rain falling around me and watched and listened as they urged each other to victory, rejoiced in the scored goal, lamented the one that just went wide of the post or questioned the one that went over the side line “our ball”! I left them to it.
A few months ago, shortly after the pitch came into use, I met a man from the parish. I’d say he’s well into his thirties now. He asked me what I thought of the pitch and I said I liked it very much and that I was happy to see it being used so much. I knew he was one of the ones that used it. Indeed he was one of the “stars” last night. “There’s only one thing wrong with it”, he said. I couldn’t imagine what that might be so I asked. “I wish I was fifteen again”, he smiled! I knew what he meant. He’d love to have had that facility in the parish during his teenage years.
That’s where I think we start Lent 2016. Is there a place or time we need to go back to? A time we might wish for when things were different, perhaps even better? That’s where we go today, in the quietness of heart and with Spirit renewed to reclaim what we might have lost and live again the fullness of our Faith potential.
The ashes will fade but the mark and promise of the Cross remains.
by Vincent | Feb 6, 2016 | General Interest, Reflections, Photography
Earlier today I went through old photos I have on a hard drive. It’s amazing how many photos I’ve taken over the years. Need to sit down sometime and seriously go through them, delete and sort. That’s one of the downsides of digital photos, I tend to move them from the camera to some form of storage or delete them. Few ever make it to hard copies and if they do, it’s often just on ordinary paper that fades in time. There’s something nice about going through old albums that isn’t quite the same in the digital world.
I found many pictures of my parents – quite a number taken in the latter months of my mother’s life, R.I.P. A few video clips too. I watched one of them but they’re a bit of a tug on the emotions so I didn’t dwell. I got my mother (a life long Pioneer) to talk about her short-lived romance with Babycham!! She thought it was a soft drink and enjoyed many bottles en route from Dublin!! Of course that stopped when she found out there was alcohol involved. A lifelong Pioneer of course!!
I found one of Mary and Bill in the Nursing home – well two really but she had a nice smile in one of them. I liked it. The other had my father’s hands included and he was holding a bag of jelly sweets. They weren’t for himself. He figured she liked them and brought her a pack each evening. In fairness, he seldom had to bring the bag home!!
Anyway, thought I’d share this photo. I added a little quote from James Joyce that a friend sent to me on a sympathy card after my father died.
God rest the dead. God bless the memories. Thank God for photos!
by Vincent | Feb 2, 2016 | Reflections, Religion
Earlier today, at 10am Mass in Kilmovee, we blessed candles for Candlemus Day. There were a few extra people there, to mark the feast of The Lord’s Presentation in the Temple. I was happy to see them. A few brought candles to be added to our church’s supply, placed before the Altar for blessing. It’s a nice tradition, whereby people bring candles to be blessed – some for use in the church and others to be brought home and used there throughout the year.
Just before going down to Mass, i picked up a small candle holder in the house and put it in my pocket. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I thought I’d make use of it but wasn’t sure when or how. I left it on the middle of the Altar and when we blessed the candles, I took one and lit it, then I placed it in the little holder on the middle of the Altar. There, needless to say, it stayed. (No “moving candles” in Kilmovee, thank God:) )
After Holy Communion I turned off all the lights in the church and quenched the candles – except one – the one blessed and lighted earlier in the Mass. I sat down and heard myself singing “How Great Thou Art” – it seemed so appropriate. I said a few words around the light in this single candle, drawing us towards its flame and warmth. When other distractions are taken away, the one point of focus is the “Light – the Light of Christ” and I prayed that we might allow ourselves be caught in its invitation to come and worship and recognise, in its simplicity, something of the Divine.
Maybe that’s what happened for Simeon and Anna!
by Vincent | Jan 26, 2016 | General Interest, Reflections
by Vincent | Jan 5, 2016 | Reflections, Religion
Fr Leo O’Sullivan S.P.S.
I heard yesterday (January 4th) of the death of Fr Leo O’Sullivan. A native of Dingle, Leo was a Kiltegan Missionary Priest. In or around 1968, when I was about 5, going on 6, years of age, he came to spend some time in our parish at home. It may even have been earlier than that as the priest’s house in Cloonloo was not built (as far as I recall) and Fr Leo lived with a local family while he was in our parish. He was a joy!
I remember my family going to Kerry with him the day he left Cloonloo. We went to an early Mass in Cloonloo Church (there’s a photo of that day at home.) Leo celebrated Mass on the Wooden Altar that was in the church at that time. Afterwards we went with him to Dingle. I remember him telling me, as we looked to the Atlantic off the coast of Kerry that New York was the next parish!! I believed him and, in my childish mind, wondered what it must be like there.
There was a kindness in him. I recall one Christmas him arriving in at home with presents for us. Among them a train set that was for sharing. I spoke recently about Fr John Casey bringing presents to my mother and her brothers on a Christmas morning in 1930 and, though the circumstances were thankfully different, there was something in Fr Leo’s train set that stayed with me. Indeed when I hear that Christmas ad for Barry’s Tea and the man recalling a train set he got from “Santa” when he was a child, there’s a connection there too. “Doesn’t that beat Banagher?”
I remember Leo calling in home shortly after I was ordained. He was back in Africa at that stage and I gave him my “blessing” on the street outside our house at home. Again, a photo of that (when/if I find , I’ll include here).
Through the years we kept in touch. Sometimes he helped me to fulfil my Mass requests and arranged for Missionary Priests to offer Masses that time didn’t allow me say. I’m glad we kept in contact. There were a few – too few – visits to Kiltegan. My parents loved to see him and I’m happy that I was able to bring them a few times to catch up and renew their friendship.
There was a priest from Gurteen, Fr Ciaran Needham, whose name I’d heard many times but never met. One of the times we visited Leo, we had the chance to meet Ciaran too and my father and mother were so pleased to see him. I was too. These were great men.
Bill, Fr Ciaran Needham, Fr Leo and my mother. RIP all!
Myself, Ciaran, Leo and Mary
A sharing that lasted for decades. Leo and Bill, R.I.P.
The next time we visited, things had changed a little. My mother’s balance wasn’t great and Leo got a wheelchair for her. Sadly, wheelchairs are all too common in Kiltegan, with many retired Missionaries there now. It made it a bit easier to bring her around but Mary wasn’t overly impressed to be in “the chair”. Other changes included the death of Fr Ciaran Needham. I left my parents with Leo and visited his grave. May he rest in peace.
Fr Ciaran’s Grave. R.I.P.
2008 – my parents with Fr Leo in Kiltegan
Leo was a character and, wherever he went, there are stories about things he said and did. Someone told me that in one parish, he asked a nun “Who’s your man in the picture? I see him so many places and I didn’t want to ask in case I should know” “It’s Pope Paul VI”, the nun whispered and Leo thanked her for the update!! In our own parish too, there were moments of fun when he’d talk to people and have them (us) fooled to the eyeballs!! He limped, I’m told, one time into a hospital in Drogheda and when a nurse asked what was wrong he told her he had “woodworm” in his wooden leg!!
For all the messing, he loved his Missionary life and his heart seems to have very much remained there.
The last time I saw him was about two years ago. I had a baptism in Carlow and decided to go to see him. I found the man in his room but Leo wasn’t there. I was saddened to see him so vulnerable and confused. I’m not sure whether or not he knew me. I had a feeling he did but he never mentioned my parents or their deaths. Neither did I. I felt he didn’t know they’d died and, if he did, he’d forgotten. I came away with a heavy heart. There was another link with my past, slipping away.
I was so sorry not to have heard of Leo’s death in time to attend his funeral. I would like to have been able to do that much to say thanks to him, not just for an old train set, but for reminding me that good humour has a central place in ministry. Much is achieved through laughter. Leo O’Sullivan taught me that much! I’m grateful.
This year I had arrangements made to go to Kiltegan and thought I’d see Leo there. I was prepared for him not knowing me but looked forward to standing with him for a little while. I will visit him of course, but like Ciaran Needham and another man I always admired, Kevin Brehony, it will be in the place where the daffodils grow.
The final resting place for those who made it home to Ireland. God rest these Missionary men.
May they rest in peace. Amen.
