I was asked to write some homily thoughts for Trócaire’s Lenten Campaign. I was happy to be asked and able to do this. Just going to include here the piece for this weekend.
Hope all is going well.
V
If there is a specific word presenting itself to us in today’s readings, I think it is the word “promise”.
It is a wonderful word that gives hope and helps us to cope with difficult situations in life. If we can believe the promise will be fulfilled, we can work our way through moments not of our choosing and challenges that are difficult.
Broken promises are heart-breaking. Something as simple as a service provider saying he or she will call you back, but the call does not come or that a job will begin on a given day, but nobody turns up. This leads us to feel frustrated, left down and disappointed. At its worst, the broken promise leads to anger and maybe even some form of retaliation.
In Trócaire’s Lenten Campaign 2020, we are face to face with people who know the meaning of broken promises. Their set-backs are more serious and life threatening than a plumber turning up on Wednesday evening rather than Monday morning. Their very lives and the lives of their families are at risk.
When Jesus takes Peter, James and John to the mountain top, they experience something wonderful and beyond expectation. They encounter the one they had known as friend in a way they had never seen before and he is truly revealed to them as the Son of the Father. Though they could not take it all in, they knew their lives could never be the same again. Transfixed as he was transfigured, they ask “Lord, can we build three tents?” It was as if they wanted to stay in this moment forever.
Gently, he points them towards ground level again. It is here they must live their lives, not forgetting what they had witnessed. It is here, at ground level, they must make a difference. They and all who followed them in his name and because of this moment, share in the fulfilment of the promise.
There are so many people at ground level, living under daily threat and in constant fear, looking to us today, seeking our help today that they too may know the promise kept.
On Monday, February 17th, I preached at the opening session of the Padre Pio Novena in Ballina. The theme of the Novena this week is around “Coping with crosses in life” and my topic was linked with finding courage in face of the cross. Earlier that evening, a lady called me who said she could not attend the Novena but wondered if I could share what I was going to say. I told her I had some notes written but that if I could put them together, I’d place a few words on the blog today. Hence this post. I hope some of it might be helpful.
Many thanks to Frs Aidan, Tom and all at the Cathedral who made me feel so welcome last night.
In the very early years of being a priest, I attended the funeral of a young boy who had died. I really had no clue as to what I could or should say in the circumstances and my heart went out to his family and to all who were so grief-stricken. I stood in the Funeral Home, gazing into the open coffin and at his young face and words would not come. I put my hand on the edge of the coffin, looked at his family and all gathered. “These are the hardest prayers you will ever have to pray”, I said. The boy’s father reached over, left his hand on top of mine and said; “We will pray them”. I don’t know where he got the courage to say that but, in his saying those words, I too found courage and the praying began – and continues.
A priest I knew wrote a lovely reflection one time about the Religious Examiner visiting a school. It was in the “Penny Catechism” days when questions and answers were the order of the day. Each question had a set answer, an answer to be learned off, remembered and I suppose live by. The reflection centred on the priest turning to a young lad in a classroom, much to the disappointment of his teacher who knew there were other pupils in her class who had memorised the answers and had a bit more interest. This boy’s passion was sport and he didn’t always focus on the finer points of religion. The priest travelled with a dog in his car and the young boy spotted the dog and made some reference to it as the priest began to question him. The priest closed his book, looked at the boy and asked a question that was not part of the script: “Do you think Jesus had a dog?” The answer was sincere: “No Father, because if he had it would have been with him on Calvary.” The reflection concludes saying the young boy went home proudly pocketing a “ten shilling note”. Rightly so! The loyalty of the dog would have seen him at Jesus’ side, even on Calvary.
Nobody should have to face Calvary alone.
I’d like to spend a bit of time with some of the Stations of The Cross that are around the walls of this cathedral and, indeed all our churches. They take different approaches to telling the story of Jesus’ journey with the cross. Maybe we might find in them, moments of courage shared and opportunities to help others find courage.
A Galway Diocesan Priest, Fr Leo Morahan, now gone to his Eternal Reward, was a wonderful speaker. I remember hearing him being interviewed on radio one night. He spoke about an elderly lady who used to visit the local church, beside the school he attended, where she would pray the Stations Of The Cross. He said the children would sneak in to watch her as she prayed because she never had any book with her. She would walk to each station and stand for a while. Sometimes she would say nothing but occasionally she would, for example, at the Seventh Station she might say “You’re down again”. It was very personal to her. He said the line she used that impacted most on him was at the Twelfth Station, Jesus dies on the cross. He said she would stand there for what seemed like ages and then shaking her head she would say: “Upon my Soul, if the Gallaghers were there, it wouldn’t have happened you!” There was something so real about this, a feeling that an injustice had been done and that, given the chance, her family would have prevented it.
Nobody should have to face Calvary alone.
One of the most difficult encounters recalled in the Stations is that of Jesus meeting his mother. No words are exchanged but there is a reassurance offered. Often, those carrying crosses in life, feel deeply for their loved ones and want to shield them from what is happening. It is, of course a two-way journey, and the loved ones want also to shield and protect. Often we wonder what we can or should say but this station maybe says to us, don’t worry about what you say. Maybe silence is enough for it is rooted in being present to each other. Perhaps courage is found in that silence too.
One of my favourite characters from the Stations is Veronica. She wiped the face of Jesus with a towel. It was the right and sensible thing to do. She did not overthink it or discuss it with a committee. She saw someone who needed help and she helped. What a difference she must have made to him at that moment, when surrounded by hostility and confusion, a kindness is done. I am reminded of a little girl whose father, also a very young man, was seriously ill. He was using a walker to get around the house to help keep falls at bay. His little girl, who had received a Kitchen Set for Christmas transformed it into a walker and walked around the house by his side, in her own “walking frame”. Did she think she was Veronica? Undoubtedly no, but in my book she was. She showed kindness in a way she felt she could and offered support through that kindness. Veronicas are still there, offering courage and support in times of uncertainty.
Sadly that man died some months later but his wife spoke to me of moments that stood out for her during her husband’s uninvited illness. She told me of being in Galway one day for a hospital appointment. Parking was difficult, the weather was bad and it was a low moment. Eventually she found a parking space and as she tried to help her husband from the car to a wheelchair, she was finding it very difficult – they both were. A young man was walking down the street. He was on his mobile phone and she heard him say “I’ll call you back”. He walked over to her, helped her husband from the car and waited til they were on their way. He interrupted his call to do the right thing. We spoke of him at the Funeral Mass and wondered would he ever know how much that meant? I speak of him here again tonight and wonder the same but, have no doubt, it made all the difference. That man was, in so many ways, Simon of Cyrene, helping another carry a cross. There is a reassurance here that there are people out there willing to help us.
Contrast him with another man, a man I don’t know but about whom I heard a woman speak one time. I don’t know her either. It was an interview and she was saying that she had a short time before the interview been shopping. She had her two sons with her, one a baby in arms and the other who lives with Autism. As they left the shop, her older child held on to the door of the shop and would not let go. He began to scream and shout and to lash out at her. All the while she tried to hold him, her shopping and her second child, The older child kicked her, screamed and shouted. Her shopping spilled out on the ground and as she bent, trying to gather it, a man approached her and said; “You need to put manners on that child”. She said she lay on the path and cried.
A question! Which side of the pavement would you wish to be on? The side with the young man who ended a phonecall to offer help or with the man who judged a situation he clearly did not understand and offered useless advice rather than a helping hand? I think we all know the answer to that.
The women of the Eighth Station remind me of people attending daily Mass. Truth told, quite often the majority of those attending is women. Each day they pray for intentions, remember people who are sick and respond “Lord graciously hear us” to prayers of intercession. I believe Jesus notices these people as he noticed the women of the Eighth Station and he asks, as he did on the road to Emmaus, “What matters are you discussing as you walk along?” He cares deeply about our cares and his interest is genuine. I believe this too is a source of courage for all journeying with the cross. Don’t be afraid to tell Jesus what you are discussing, the fears you have, the disappointments you feel and maybe the anger too. He truly is listening. “What matters are you discussing as you walk along?”
Anger and frustration are regularly linked with the cross and understandably so. Jesus shared some of this in his cry “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The question was real. He found his answer in that man we now call “the good thief” who turned to him for mercy. Surely if this man could recognise Jesus, at the lowest point of his life, as one who could save him, then Jesus’ ministry was successful, and he truly was not abandoned. This was his Father’s answer. It says to Jesus that it is not the exterior frame that matters but the inner soul, the inner person where truth and spirit are found. Maybe there is a consolation and source of courage for us in this, particularly as we see bodies in decline due to illness or pressure that there is a Soul and Spirit within that have their story to tell as well – a story of endurance and faith.
Nobody should have to face Calvary alone.
The Gospel Passage we read this evening, speaks of Jesus walking towards his disciples across stormy waters and saying to them “Courage, it is I. Do not be afraid” (Matthew 14:27) That remains his message and his commitment to us all.
Nobody need face the Cross alone. “The Gallaghers are here”.
I watched a film (documentary) on Pope Francis last night. It was called “A Man of his word” and gave a great insight into the life and the passion of this man. He remains, in the core of his heart and soul, a decent man who really wants to bring centre stage the message of Christ. Some of the film was personally challenging and reminds me of how far I fall short, on occasions, not least in my awareness of those who find life difficult because of poverty and persecution.
There was one scene that I found especially impressive because of the words that accompanied it. He was visiting a Holocaust Memorial in May 2014. He spoke from the heart and from somewhere in God’s vocabulary to a world that can be so, so cruel and to a humanity that all too often forgets the basics and the need to be mindful of one another. I’m going to read these words at Masses this weekend. I can’t recall when I’ve quoted directly from the pope and certainly these words sank deep into me, in a way that surprised me but also made me glad that I can be moved by words ….
“Adam, where are you?” (cf. Gen 3:9). Where are you, o man? What have you come to? In this place, this memorial of the Shoah, we hear God’s question echo once more: “Adam, where are you?” This question is charged with all the sorrow of a Father who has lost his child. The Father knew the risk of freedom; he knew that his children could be lost… yet perhaps not even the Father could imagine so great a fall, so profound an abyss! Here, before the boundless tragedy of the Holocaust, That cry – “Where are you?” – echoes like a faint voice in an unfathomable abyss…
Adam, who are you? I no longer recognize you. Who are you, o man? What have you become? Of what horror have you been capable? What made you fall to such depths?
Certainly it is not the dust of the earth from which you were made. The dust of the earth is something good, the work of my hands. Certainly it is not the breath of life which I breathed into you. That breath comes from me, and it is something good (cf. Gen 2:7).
No, this abyss is not merely the work of your own hands, your own heart… Who corrupted you? Who disfigured you? Who led you to presume that you are the master of good and evil? Who convinced you that you were god? Not only did you torture and kill your brothers and sisters, but you sacrificed them to yourself, because you made yourself a god.
Today, in this place, we hear once more the voice of God: “Adam, where are you?”
From the ground there rises up a soft cry: “Have mercy on us, O Lord!” To you, O Lord our God, belongs righteousness; but to us confusion of face and shame (cf. Bar 1:15).
A great evil has befallen us, such as never happened under the heavens (cf. Bar 2:2). Now, Lord, hear our prayer, hear our plea, save us in your mercy. Save us from this horror.
Almighty Lord, a soul in anguish cries out to you. Hear, Lord, and have mercy! We have sinned against you. You reign for ever (cf. Bar 3:1-2). Remember us in your mercy. Grant us the grace to be ashamed of what we men have done, to be ashamed of this massive idolatry, of having despised and destroyed our own flesh which you formed from the earth, to which you gave life with your own breath of life. Never again, Lord, never again!
“Adam, where are you?” Here we are, Lord, shamed by what man, created in your own image and likeness, was capable of doing.
Realised again that I have let a number of weeks pass without adding anything here. Alas, nobody seemed to notice:)
Truth is, I have nothing much to add today other than say hello and that I haven’t given up on this. I am always happy to meet people who tell me they check in here regularly and to occasionally receive a message about something I have posted. I’d like to think this little space in the vastness of cyber world is doing more good than harm and that, from time to time, it hits the spot.
Advent is into its second week now. I noticed a Tweet during the week from a man who said his local Parish Priest had asked people to pull a name from a box of some sort last weekend. The names were of characters associated with the Christmas Story and the idea, as I understand it, was to journey through Advent giving some thought to this character and his/her role. The man said that he had drawn “The Donkey” and was a bit amused by that. I replied to him saying the donkey was a key figure and without him the journey would not have been made – or certainly not as easily. The donkey was again there on Palm Sunday. Loyalty.
I liked the idea and am wondering how I might use it in the parish. We are going to have a small gathering on Friday evening and there may well be a box there – a box of names, donkey included!
Mount St Anne’s Retreat and Conference Centre, Killenard
In the past two weeks I’ve been involved in some Retreat Work – firstly with some priests from the Diocese of Cloyne in Glencomeragh House, Co. Waterford and, in recent days, with a group in Mount St Anne’s Retreat Centre, Killenard, Co. Laois. On both occasions I was helped by one of our priests who covered daily Mass in the parish for me. I am very grateful for this.
Retreat work is, I suppose, part of my ministry and I have been lucky enough to be involved in it through the years. I like the challenge in brings and the chance to share a few thoughts and stories with people from different places. Much of the work has involved retreats with priests and religious and, occasionally, parish missions or talks. The variety is good but it can sometimes be difficult to get away and the parish is always on my mind and the hope that nothing happens while I’m away that I’d really want to be there for. As it turned out, following the Cloyne Retreat, I returned to the parish to three funerals over the space of a weekend and a wedding that, of course, had been arranged.
I was at a funeral in Kiltegan on Wednesday – a neighbour from Monasteraden, Fr James Sharkey had died and his Funeral Mass took place there. James, a priest of St Patrick’s Missionary Society for sixty years, was a good and kind man. I met him often over the years and regarded him highly, may he rest in peace. Had I been in Kilmovee, I’d have tried to attend the Mass but, as it turned out I was in Killenard which is only about an hour from Kiltegan so I re-arranged things a bit with the group here and was glad to be able to attend. I met some of my neighbours from home and when I told one of them that I was in Killenard directing a retreat, he asked “Who would be at that?” and when I told him he said: “Isn’t that a bit like bringing coal to Newcastle?” I know what he meant. He wondered why priests or nuns would need to go on retreat. He’s not alone. The feeling might well exist that priests and nuns are people of faith and know what they are about spiritually and might often be called upon to help others spiritually so how then could they need spiritual help! NEWSFLASH!! We all need help!
So is that what I see myself doing? Helping? Being some sort of expert? A “guru” of sorts? While I’d like to think what I do might be a help, I certainly don’t see myself as guru or expert. Most of what I try to bring to retreats comes from my own experiences and attempts to live the life of ministry. That includes my many shortfalls and moments of confusion but includes too many of the wonderful experiences I have had along the way. I enjoy parish life and much of what I have to share comes from experiences lived in the various parishes. People and God’s relationship with me through them and mine with Him are my backdrop. Stories shared are stories that matter and made a difference to me. Songs too, form a fair part of all I try to do and the odd poetry verse. Scripture passages as well, and their place in my life and the experiences lived are important to me.
I always feel helped too! There are moments when someone says something to me, shares a story that stays with me. In particular, on many of the diocesan retreats I’ve been part of, I have enjoyed stories about priests and characters of the diocese, stories told with respect and in spirit of good humour and fellowship. I have also been deeply moved by some of the wonderful people I have encountered, through their amazing ability to give meaningful witness to their faith and vocation. I don’t believe I ever went to a retreat without feeling humbled and refreshed by decent people.
To be asked to lead or direct a retreat is no small thing since those going on retreat or those organising a retreat want to receive something from it. So when asked to do this work, there’s a belief that I can bring something to it and I appreciate that trust very much. I enjoy this aspect of my life and know that I won’t be at it forever but I am very thankful to people in the parish for their understanding and to those who help me in the parish for their support too. Without them and the goodwill of some of my priest friends and colleagues, I clearly could not be involved in this ministry.
On this Trinity Sunday, we celebrate too, Fathers’ Day and maybe that relationship between father and child has a place in today’s feast. To be a father, it seems to me, is to make of a person three persons – the man, the father and the spirit that exists between him and his child or children.
The man in you knows what it was to be child and dependent, to search, to lose and to find. The man in you knows uncertainty and the gratitude that comes from being loved and trusted. The man in you knows the fullness of life with its countless twists and turns. The man in you knows what it means to be hurt, confused and vulnerable – even when all around you thinks you are strong, independent and in control. That’s the man you are today – on Fathers’ Day. You are the man to whom your child looks for the kind word, for good example and direction in life.
The father in you wants to do your very best by your family – to be a true provider, not just in euro and cent, but in every aspect of your child or children’s journey. The father in you wants to give what maybe you did not always receive or, better again, to give what you did receive from your own father who tried his best for you always. The father in you wants to show love and respect for all your family. That’s the father we need today, tomorrow and every day.
The spirit in you is that which makes you get up when you might find it easier to lie down and to go to work when it might be more desirable to stay at home. The spirit in you is that breath that is taken away from you when your child finds the word “Daddy” or your daughter walks, wedding dressed, beside you towards the Altar where you carried her as a baby and stood behind her on First Holy Communion and Confirmation days. The Spirit in you is at its best when you rejoice in your child’s successes on the football field, in the classroom and in life’s many choices.
In the mane of Father, Son and Spirit – Happy Fathers’ Day!
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