I had an interesting day – following a dodgy start (as mentioned already!) as I was “on duty” here in the parish. I had two things arranged for today, apart from the 12.10 Mass. The first was first thing in the morning when I had to go to bless a house. I didn’t know who was in the house or why the blessing was sought. As it turned out, the house has been recently occupied by a young couple and their two daughters. They could not have been any more welcoming. The youngest daughter was a bit wary of me at first but the ice was broken when she told me she likes ET and went to find the doll to prove her love! “ET Phone Home”, I said, she laughed and put out her finger to me. We bonded! They were a lovely family and it was clear that the blessing of their house was an important part of the moving in process where house becomes home. There was a very interesting map of Ireland on the wall and when I went to show the girls where I lived, the map was even more interesting. The shape of each county was filled with the name of the county in different fonts and colours. Very clever. I admired it and discovered the husband, who is a designer, had designed and produced it. Nice piece of work.
Mass at 12.10 went fine. Again, it’s amazing how many people come to he Masses each day. Something very right and uplifting about it. Feast of Ss Joachim and Anne so thought about and talked about parents – all parents, living and dead, and the great efforts they make in the name of their children. Ought never be forgotten. I told them about the house and family I had visited and the blessing of a home and the witness these parents are giving.
In the afternoon, I visited people in New Hyde Park. Another annual visit at this stage. I called to see Michael and then the Hunts. They are so good for keeping in touch during the year and it’s good to see them, even for a short visit.
Detective Steven McDonald, R.I.P.
At the other end of the day, I had been asked to speak to a Men’s Prayer Group and wasn’t sure what to expect or how many. The group was originally founded by Detective Steven McDonald, a New York Policeman who was shot and paralyzed in the line of duty and subsequently forgave the shooter. He travelled through much of the world, speaking on conflict resolution – including Northern Ireland in the company of Fr Mychal Judge (the Fire Department Chaplain, who was the first named victim of the attack of September 11th). I used see Steven at Mass in the Cathedral in his wheelchair. He was always so reverent and kind. He died last year, R.I.P. and his funeral was a major event in New York – I remember watching it on TV at home. In any case, he had started this prayer group for men in his home and the numbers grew to a point where they had to use one of the rooms in the Ministry Office. I’m not sure how many were there tonight, maybe fifty or sixty but I’m told there are over one hundred members of this prayer group. They meet once a month, pray the rosary and, as I understand it, ask someone in to give a presentation. That was my role tonight. I really enjoyed it. It was so heart-warming to see this group of men, of varying ages and backgrounds (I imagine) being at one in prayer. Made me wonder should or could something like that be done at home! It was a sort of “Men’s Shed” but the only tool was prayer. Very worthwhile and uplifting. Glad to have been asked to go.
When I came in from the talk I found a little bag left for me in the front office. It was left in by a cousin, Terry, and she and her daughter had included two baseball caps and a tea towel!! The caps were timely as I left my Sligo cap in New Jersey but will be re-united with it. I left it in Virginia last year!! The tea towel was in response to a few words I shared at Sunday Mass about needing to lose a bit of weight! Knowing it is one thing but doing it another!!
Today’s Gospel passage points towards the Golden Rule of treating others as you’d like them to treat you. The evening finds me again on Lough Derg – as a sort of day-boy – helping out for a day or two but not on pilgrimage. I WILL do it at some stage, just not sure when!
I had Mass this evening and spoke to them, in part, about Fr Pat Burke – a priest of Tuam Archdiocese, who died unexpectedly, and – arguably – many years ahead of his time, yesterday. May he rest in peace. Pat was curate in Westport parish and was due to take up a new appointment in July. His death has come as a shock to all who knew him. He’d mentioned the day before that he was not feeling very well but nobody expected his death. It is a huge loss to his family, his parish, diocese and to all who knew him.
I cannot believe how sad I feel about this. A few months ago, I put a few words on this blog about vocations. It took the form of a letter to myself. The next day I had a message from Pat, telling me he enjoyed it and that it spoke to him “you could have written it to me” he said. I replied, thanking him and telling him that we’d “keep motoring” in priesthood. We had spoken many times about meeting up at some stage, having lunch and a bit of a chat. That’s not going to happen now. I feel great regret about that. It was so doable. Less than an hour would have seen us in one place or the other. It never happened.
My admiration for Pat was in watching him at Knock Shrine where he was curate and Master of Ceremonies at many of the events in the Basilica. He always seemed so unassuming but his role was central. He never sought limelight but helped others find their place in its rays. He was a good man.
Later I met him when I was involved with the priests of Tuam Archdiocese in their annual Diocesan Priests’ Retreat. Pat was the only person younger than myself there and his presence was so supportive. He wrote me a very kind note afterwards, thanking me for the retreat but I told him that he had supported me, by his presence, in a way far more supportive than I could have been of him. I meant it. There was something very reassuring and calming in his presence. He made a difference.
At days end, Pat treated people with kindness – the way we’d like to be treated and his place in this evening’s Mass on Lough Derg, is to encourage us to do likewise. There is also something about not putting things off for another day. That day has a way of overtaking us.
The Water’s Edge, Lough Derg – June 26th 2018.
AT THE WATER’S EDGE
Pat,
Earlier today I read about your work on the islands off Mayo and how much you enjoyed it. As I came across on the boat this evening, the stone’s throw of a journey, I wondered about you heading off to celebrate Mass and the sacraments on Innishturk and Clare Island or your visits to Caher Island. You made a difference there. I’m sure you are missed tonight. Your feet, between boat and shore, brought something very special and sacred. You were priest among the people and the people enveloped you as one chosen, one called to be with them and for them. It was good work Pat.
I stood at the water’s edge here on Lough Derg this evening. shoes on and phone in hand – feeling less than worthy as I watched barefooted men and women of all ages, walk around and behind me, focusing on their prayers and being pilgrims. Phones turned off, no photos just searching for something of Heaven and finding it – I hope and pray. I watched the waters but looked beyond them to people gathering in Westport, to walk past you – not barefooted but brokenhearted, bless themselves and offer a prayer and wonder “why?” I heard them whisper to your parents and your brothers how wonderful you were and how shocked they are. “Sorry for your trouble”, they’d have said, one after another. I see them walking towards Charlie McDonnell and the other priests there, shaking their heads in disbelief. There are no words. Your loss to them is immeasurable. Certainly you didn’t know the fullness of all you meant to people. I wonder where you are in all of this? I can’t help but believe you believed in the Resurrection you preached to so many and that you are now fully caught up in it.
Then water splashes onto the slabs at my feet. Water of the lake meeting the solidness of stone. Changing its shade, moistening its hardened surface. Travelling to meet the land. How often you poured the waters of baptism on an infant’s head and watched it trickle back into the font from which it came. Parents smiled and so did you for it was God’s work. Your last Sunday was John The Baptist’s Day. Waters made holy by the one baptized and the one baptizing.
I sensed you stepping ashore Pat as the waters of Lough Derg met the stone beneath the pilgrims’ feet. I walked away from the water’s edge, believing you had found solid ground too and put your own mark on it as the stones were coloured by the lake’s edge this evening.
I told them about you Pat, at Mass. People sympathised with me afterwards on the loss of “your friend” and I felt oddly hypocritical since we didn’t know each other that well and I felt cheated too because I’d like to have known you better. I was proud of you as a priest, grateful for your text on a Monday in April and for your phonecalls every now and again. Yes, we should have met.
Pray for us Pat. We need someone to take your place. Be “vocation” now. Call people to walk where you walked and to cross the waters to the islands where you encountered something of a church we all want – a church of belonging and a church of shared vision.
Rest in peace Pat. You’ve crossed that point where the waters meet the land.
In celebrating the birth of John the Baptist, we are back in the place where the way needed to be cleared and prepared for Jesus. A wilderness had to be entered and a pathway made so that the Lord’s message could be delivered to all willing and needing to hear it. John was to be the one – the chosen one – who would do this work. People came to recognise in him, one with purpose and a sincere heart. “Prepare a way of the Lord” was his cry and it came from a place of deep conviction. He knew that people needed to hear this message, be renewed and turn again towards their God – whom they had abandoned in search of other ways.
He assured all who listened that he was not “The Christ” and that, in fact, he was not fit to undo the sandal straps of the one who was following. There was no ego in John. He totally believed that his message was one of calling people to repentance and to a renewal of faith.
There is much talk now about Ireland being a missionary country. It was once a country of missionaries but that day, it seems, has passed. Where once we sent men and women from Ireland to share the “Good News” in far flung parts of the world, it is now the case that this same “Good News” needs first to be spoken again and believed again at home.
Where do we begin? Where do we find prophets? Where do we find our voice? Only where John found it – in faith. We need to nourish our faith that it can truly nourish us. We need to be nourished that we can truly nourish others.
I’ve been off the mainland for a few hours! On Lough Derg again for a short while, helping with the pilgrimage but with my shoes on! Good to be here and pleased to have been asked.
It’s wonderful to see people so committed to the traditions of this Holy Place and open to its call to visit. Bare-footed and on fast, people spend three days here. Sharing some time in the Basilica for Public Prayer, Mass, Reconciliation, Renewal of Baptismal Promises and private time going around the Penitential Beds, honouring the Prayer traditions that have been handed down.
No more than the Gable Wall of Knock on that August evening in 1879, there are people of “all ages” gathered here. Some generations from within the one family. There’s something happening here that is very deeply rooted in faith and the handing on of faith.
There’s a lovely mix of personalities and of moods. There are times of quiet, times of chanted prayer and times when you hear laughter shared. All that is good is happening here.
That “good” runs deep. I have no doubt there are people who will leave this Island feeling a sense of accomplishment and relief – not just relief that the days have passed but spiritual relief for maybe a burden shared or left behind.
As for me, I will leave it in a little while, glad to have had the chance to minister to people and be among people happy to witness to their faith. I will leave, intending to come back on “pilgrimage” but that’s another story!!!
I’ll leave you with just over two minutes of a chant from last evening’s Night Prayer. Again, talents well used. God bless the singers and musicians who bring so much to the liturgies on Lough Derg.
This is a word that is very much linked with the Feast of Corpus Christi.
The intention is to bring the Eucharist among the people and, in so doing, both give honour to the Real Presence and make the point that the Eucharist is not something to be locked away behind the doors of the Tabernacle.
Yes, the Blessed Sacrament is reserved there but it’s place is among people for Jesus came to walk our streets, change our hearts and to call us to enter “communion” with him and one another.
The procession then, as it winds its way through towns and villages or just in a circuit around the church, is a timely reminder that what happens within the structure of the church building, needs to be carried home so that the Body of Christ may be recognised as alive and active in all God’s people.
On Sunday, May 20th, I had the privilege of celebrating Mass in St Patrick’s Church, Oram. It was a Month’s Mind Mass for Tom McBride – Big Tom, who had been a family friend since my childhood. I was happy to be asked and grateful to the local priests for making me feel welcome. I did not know what to expect but had assumed it would be family and perhaps a few locals and friends. I was shocked to find the church filled to capacity with people from all over Ireland and possibly overseas as well as some people outside the church. On my way to Oram, I had tried to think a few thoughts I might share. They weren’t written down but I thought I’d try to remember them now and include them here. I think this more or less reflects what was said yesterday. I am thankful to Tom and Rose’s family for asking me to be celebrant at this Mass. It gave me the opportunity to give back something to a man who had much to give and gave it freely. May he rest in peace. Amen.
There was music there in the Derry air like a language that we all could understand I remember the day when I earned my first pay And I played in a small pick-up band There I spent my youth and to tell you the truth I was sad to leave it all behind me For I learned about life and I’d found a wife in the town I loved so well
I used those words earlier today, speaking at Mass in Kilkelly. I used them for this Pentecost Day when we’re told that people could hear God’s word spoken clearly and meaningfully to them in their own language. This surprised and encouraged them.
Phil Coulter taps into this in his memory of his home town of Derry, describing the music as a language “we could all understand”. What was that music? It must have been a sense of place and belonging, a feeling of being at home and with people who mattered and people to whom you mattered. It’s a good description. The music invites lyric – words wrapped around it and through it that meaning may come through.
We gather to remember a man who knew that language and who had the ability to speak it and sing it to people all over Ireland and beyond in a way that all could understand. It’s a wonderful gift and a gift freely accepted by Tom and put to lasting good use by him. It’s that music – that lyric that brings us here today. I firmly believe in the power of music and slong and that God has a central part in the power of both to bring people to a peaceful and certain place – often at times that are not peaceful and in situations that are not certain.
The disciples, we are told, were locked away in a room. Everything in them knew it’s not where they should be, nor was it where they were needed but fear prevented them from going outside. Into that room, on this Pentecost Day, came the power, the gifts and the fruits of the Holy Spirit, throwing open the doors of the locked room and sending the apostles out to be the people they needed to be – preachers of the word, players of the music, shapers of the lyric so that his message could reach the ends of the earth.
We gather with Tom’s family today. We know that they can feel that sense of being locked in the room – locked in a room called “grief”. Few of us here, have not had this experience but for Tom’s family, the experience is doubled by the loss of Rose as well. They are here today as children who have lost their parents, grandchildren who have lost their grandparents, sister who has lost a brother – as people in grief. Like the apostles, it is understandable that they would find it difficult to leave this room, no matter how much they might want to. It’s a difficult room and a difficult place. While we could say that Tom and Rose were not especially young, equally we could say they were not especially old. Age is not the issue today. Loss is. The loss of parents, grandparents, brother – ones very much loving and loved. When my own parents died, people might have asked how old they were. I’d say my mother was eighty-six and there’d be a look almost saying “well what did you expect?” Even moreso when my father died at ninety-one. Of course there’s truth in long lives lived but the reality is their ages don’t matter. They are still a massive loss to us. Parents, the ones who gave us life and shaped our journey.
So we are asking today, that the doors of this room called grief might be opened for Tom’s family. Allowing them move again, be happy and content again and strength-filled again. This is what they deserve. They, like all who loved Tom, must listen for the music in the air – that language we can all understand.
Since Tom’s death, I’ve looked at a lot of YouTube videos – more that I might have looked at were he alive and I’ve enjoyed them. One in particular, where he was playing music and was accompanied by one of his grandsons. I thought it a lovely moment and a real reminder that the gift had been passed on. There’s comfort in that today. The tune must be shared and must be carried beyond locked doors that it gives joy to people again as it has so surely done in the past.
Coulter finishes his song with an acknowledgement that things have changed forever and that there’s no going back but that hope remains. I believe that’s where we are at today. Tom’s life will live on in that music – that lyric – that language that we can all understand.
Now the music’s gone but they carry on For their spirit’s been bruised, never broken They will not forget but their hearts are set on tomorrow and peace once again For what’s done is done and what’s won is won and what’s lost is lost and gone forever I can only pray for a bright, brand new day in the town I loved so well ….
For the man – the song – the music we all loved so well.
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