Lazarus around us

Lazarus around us

How many years can a mountain exist before it is washed to the sea
and how many years must a people exist before they’re allowed to be free
yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
and pretend that he just doesn’t see?
The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind
the answer is blowing in the wind.

These lines seem to have a place in this weekend’s gospel passage.  We know the story well.  Lazaurs, a poor man, sits at the door of a wealthy man who fails to take notice of him.  Lazarus, would willingly have eaten the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table but even these were not offered.

It is interesting that the poor man is named and the rich man is not.  This flies in the face of society where we all know the names of the rich and famous, follow celebrity lifestyles and are interested in their comings and goings.  Whereas the poor still can all to often go un-noticed and remain un-named.  It is no accident that Jesus names the poor man.  He is calling out to us to notice, recognise and respond to the needs of the poor.  This is not always easy and, at times, can be very challenging but the call remains.  We are asked to do what we can.  It does not have to be over the top but efforts should be made to notice and care.

We are further told that when Lazarus died, he was carried to the “Bosom of Abraham” – to Heaven whereas the rich man died and “was buried.”  We know the rest of the story.

During the week I was in New York and going down the excalator to Penn Station, I noticed a woman standing at the bottom of the steps.  She was holding a cardboard notice in her hands.  As I drew closer, I could read some of the writing: “I feel I am invisble.  Nobody sees me.  All that keeps me going is my faith.”  She had her eyes closed and let the notice speak.  Though I read the notice, I walked past her and feel guilty about that.  It is so easy to walk past someone but not always the right thing to do.  Sometimes we can justify it by saying if we gave money, the person might use it to buy drink or drugs – waste it.  They might and that would be a pity but it should not stop us helping when we are able. Once we give the gift, it is no longer ours.  Gift forfeits ownership and it is up to the recipient to do whatever with that gift.  The hope is that he or she will do the right thing for themselevs and their families.

There is a wake taking place in the Parish Centre here today.  It is a wake for a retired firefighter who died in recent days.  On September 11th, 2001 he responded like many of his colleagues to the disaster unfolding at GROUND ZERO.  His brother, a firefighter too, lost his life that day.  This man suffered the effects of inhalation from that day and battled sickness through the years.  May he rest in peace.

What does the firefigther do?  He or she responds to the needs of others – they are at the end of the 911 call.  Lazarus is the caller today and we are the ones asked to respond to his needs.

The death of this firefigther brings me back to my own teenaged years and watching an Irish Firefigther being interviewed on a late night chat show at home.  He was speaking about a charity he was setting up.  He went on to outline where the idea for and the need for this charity had its origins.  He too had responded, with colleagues, to a 999 call. It was not a fire but a call to a flat where an old man lived.  He lived alone and had not been seen for some time. They had to break into the flat and found the man dead there.  He had been dead for sometime.  May he rest in peace.

The man being interviewed, Willie Bermingham (R.I.P.), said he could not get the image out of his head.  The man had died alone and had lived his final years in terrrible conditions.  He died alone and surrounded by dreariness.  He felt it should not have to be like that for anyone.  Bermingham set up a charity.  He called it ALONE.

Alone, because that is how the man died but also because he felt the very word had a message.

ALONE – A Little Offering Never Ends.

Lazarus deserves to be noticed.

Knock Pilgrimage

Knock Pilgrimage

On May 15th, I had the privilege of preaching at our Diocesan Pilgrimage to Knock. We joined with the dioceses of Clonfert and Galway.

Sharing the homily here (courtesy of Knock Shrine’s YouTube channel)

 

 

 

From Eloise to Bonaventure

From Eloise to Bonaventure

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while!

Just over a week ago, as I got ready for daily Mass in Kilmovee, I noticed Brother Bonaventure coming into the church. He’s a native of the parish, Michael Frain from Rusheens, and is a Religious Brother. He taught for many years in Sligo and is now living in Dublin. He had been home for a few days, and joined us for Mass on Sunday when we prayed for his brother and sister-in-law and remembered them around an anniversary.

I remember many years ago, when his brother died, Bishop Christy Jones spoke to me about Bonaventure and held him in very high regard, as do I. He’s a likeable and good man who has served the Lord without holding back for all of his life.

As he came into church that day for morning Mass, I was struck by the slowness of his walk and that the years have told their story. The energetic young teaching Brother is in there somewhere but not visible to the naked eye. That side of his life is well and fondly remembered and, more than once, I have met people through the years who connect Kilmovee with Brother Bonaventure and the best of their school memories, in which he holds a central and pivotal role. I was always proud to hear his name so mentioned.

He took his place in church, reverently greeting the Lord and, I have no doubt, looked forward to encountering him in Eucharist.

In the seat just behind him, there sat a mother and her two young daughters. A few days earlier, the younger of the two daughters had received her First Holy Communion in another parish. Her mother had stopped in to see me on their way to the church and I was happy to see Eloise in her First Holy Communion dress. The one she wore that day was her own and special to the day and the celebration that was about to take place. It was not the first time she had worn a First Holy Communion dress though! She wore her sister’s last year!

She wore it and ran in it – 10K – to raise money for the Hospice and in memory of her daddy who died nine years ago when she was just a baby. She ran with her mother and sister that day and, even at the height of COVID restrictions, people supported from a distance and as close as circumstances would allow to wish her well, let her know we were proud and to support a worthy cause. She raised more than €30,000.00. Incredible. She could not have done it without her mother and sister and the support of a community and family. She ran in her sister’s First Holy Communion Dress to commemorate the day she should have worn her own and received her First Holy Communion, cancelled, like so many other things, because of COVID.

In recent weeks she wore her own dress, joined her classmates and friends and said “Amen” to the Body of Christ. I was happy for her and thankful that her mammy took a moment to stop with me on their way to the church.

Now she and Brother Bonaventure sat a seat apart at a daily Mass and I admired both, was thankful for both and had the chance to share Eucharist with both. I thought of how quickly she ran, in contrast to Bonaventure’s measured steps and of how faithful he has been to that day when he, for the first time said “Amen” on his own First Holy Communion Day.

I thought they had much in common and hoped that Eloise will continue to be a light (her sister Lucia’s name means LIGHT) and that she will make a difference in life as Bonaventure has in his. I hoped that in years to come, on a day scarcely imaginable to young Eloise, she might walk slowly into a church, take her place and maybe notice the young mother and children in the seat behind her and that, on that day, she will give thanks for the difference she has made in life and that there will be someone to say thanks to her for that difference.

Between Eloise and Bonaventure – there is a lot of good to be done and much good has been done.

Hope

Hope

There is an online Advent Calendar, produced by the Irish Epicopal Conference’s Communications’ Office. Yesterday a short reflection I prepared on “HOPE” was used. By way of experimentation, I put the audio alongside some photos I’ve taken in recent months. Thought I might share here.

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.

 

 

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