Urlaur 50th

Urlaur 50th

About to shut down here but wanted to share a few words from this evening’s Mass in Urlaur Church to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of its opening.  A packed church spoke volumes as people travelled from near and far to be together to mark this milestone in the Parish’s life.  Thirteen priests concelebrated Mass:

  1. Monsignor Tommy Johnston
  2. Monsignor John Doherty
  3. Fr Farrell Cawley (former Parish Priest of Kilmovee)
  4. Fr Paddy Kilcoyne (former curate in the parish)
  5. Fr Tom Mulligan (former curate in the parish)
  6. Fr Padraig Costello (native of the parish)
  7. Fr Dan O’Mahony (native of the parish)
  8. Fr Stephen O’Mahony (native of the parish)
  9. Fr Padraig Hawkins (native of the parish)
  10. Fr Tommy Towey
  11. Fr Gerry Davey
  12. Fr Michael Quinn
  13. Fr Vincent Sherlock

and Rev Martin Lynch, one of our Permanent Deacons, proclaimed the Gospel.  We had apologies from some other priests who could not be there and good wishes expressed by another native of the parish, Fr Dominic Towey (Motherwell Diocese) who could not attend either.

The Gallery was filled to capacity with both local and visiting choir members (from other churches in the parish) and the church had been most beautifully decorated with flowers, plants and looked totally amazing.  It was impossible not to be proud of the local effort made and to feel a real sense of place.  I’m so glad it all happened and so grateful to the very many people who were involved in the liturgy.  Our Altar Servers, those who proclaimed the word of God, all who led us in the Prayer of The Faithful, those who brought forward gifts – including a prayer book belonging to Sr Mary of The Blessed Trinity (whose letter was very central to the building of the church), a candle, plant, hymn book, book of Eucharistic Adoration time sign-in sheets and bread and wine – carried in a Chalice most likely linked with Urlaur Abbey and dating from 1703.  All was as it should be.

Chalice from 1703 – used at Mass of Thanksgiving

The readings were from the Mass of the 3rd Sunday of Easter and the gospel passage from John’s gospel:

A reading from the holy gospel according to John

Jesus showed himself again to the disciples. It was by the Sea of Tiberias, and it happened like this: Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee and two more of his  disciples were together. Simon Peter said, ‘I’m going fishing.’ They replied, ‘We’ll come with you.’ They went out and got into the boat but caught nothing that night.

It was light by now and there stood Jesus on the shore, though the disciples did not realise that it was Jesus. Jesus called out, ‘Have you caught anything, friends?’ And when they answered, ‘No’, he said, ‘Throw the net out to starboard and you’ll find something.’ So they dropped the net, and there were so many fish that they could not haul it in. The disciple Jesus loved said to    Peter, ‘It is the Lord.’ At these words ‘It is the Lord’,  Simon Peter, who had practically nothing on, wrapped his cloak round him and jumped into the water. The  other disciples came on in the boat, towing the net and the fish; they were only about a hundred yards from land.

As soon as they came ashore they saw that there was some bread there, and a charcoal fire with fish cooking on it. Jesus said, ‘Bring some of the fish you have just caught.’ Simon Peter went aboard and dragged the net to the shore, full of big fish, one hundred and fifty-three of them; and in spite of there being so many the net was not broken. Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’ None of the disciples was bold enough to ask, ‘Who are you?’; they knew quite well it was the Lord. Jesus then stepped forward, took the bread and gave it to them, and the same with the fish. This was the third time that Jesus showed himself to the disciples after rising from the dead.

The Gospel of The Lord

Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

These are the words I shared around that gospel …

In today’s Gospel names are mentioned: Simon Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, the sons of Zebedee and two more …. it’s dangerous to mention names for fear some would be left out and yet these are listed – I think they total seven.  

In the story around this church, many names could be mentioned.  Many of them thankfully, are represented in flesh, blood and family line here this evening.  Others have passed to their Eternal reward and some never really lived among us …  Names like Arthur Sulsberger, Nat Goldstein, Pat Reynolds, Paul Scully, Joe DiDinato, Joseph Del Negro – that’s six – and there’s one more – Sr Mary of The Blessed Trinity (Margaret Cafferkey), a young woman from the parish who left when she was sixteen years of age and later became a Cloistered Nun of the Dominican Order.

“I’m going fishing”, Peter said.  “We’ll come with you”, replied the rest.  It seems Sr Mary had the same idea.  Her pond was far removed though from Urlaur Lake and, I’m reminded of Seamus Heaney’s “Digging”:

“Between my finger and thumb/the squat pen rests./I’ll dig with it”

She may not have dug with the pen, but she fished with it!  We know well the story of her letter to The New York Times and of that letter being passed on – its contents shared, so that the fullness of its message could be realised and find a generous response.  Sulsberger passed it to Reynolds, who spoke to Goldstein and he asked Scully to get someone to meet with Sr Mary. DiDinato and Del Negro travelled to Newark and met a shy woman who spoke to them firstly about their own families, wondering if they had children and when one said he had three, she said “I hope they will be priests”.  He told her two of them were girls and she laughed but didn’t give up – she encouraged the sisterhood!!  They said this talk helped them all relax and then she spoke to them of home and of her priest wanting to help build a place where her people could worship.  She told them something of history too and maybe, in fairness exaggerated a bit!!  She talked, it seems of the Abbey being destroyed by the invaders some 600 years earlier and this led to Goldstein asking friends to help make an Irish fairytale come true and to bring to the people of Urlaur a church that was “600 years overdue”.  Sr Mary told her visitors that she had not received a visitor in the room in which she met them in more than fifty years.  One of the reporters recalled it was twenty minutes later the reality of that statement hit home with them.  They thought of how easily they had called to make an appointment and how difficult it must have been for Sr Mary to walk into this room for the first time in fifty years.

We are lucky she did!  The story was told.  “Have you caught anything friends?” Jesus asked the fishermen “nothing”, they replied.  “Throw out to starboard and you will catch something”.  Were Sr Mary asked the same question, she could have answered with a very enthusiastic “yes” because both journalists agreed there was no way “you could say no” to this woman. Her net was cast to the starboard. They were caught.

The story took on a life of its own and $10,000 – more than half the price of the church – came from that letter and because of the interest of people of the Jewish faith – the same faith in which Jesus and his disciples had their roots.  Goldstein later said the line that caught his attention in a letter from Fr Hunt was that he wanted to build a little church “where the people can pray and worship”.  He said he firmly believed the world would be a better place if it had more places of worship.

There is, of course more to this story but there’s something very precious in that part of it.  Tonight is about acknowledging the fullness of the story so all have a part to play and all are fully remembered and prayed for in our gathering. 

There has been a great feeling of joy around the place in recent weeks and I have to say that has given me great hope.  The three locals who cycled to meet Bishop Fergus in 1952 to see if they could have Mass celebrated in the local school because it was difficult to get to another church and people were deeply saddened if they could not attend Mass have a part in this story. So does Bishop Fergus who said yes to that request.  Fr Hunt, Sr Mary of The Blessed Trinity, Nat Goldstein and all the many locals here who travelled to sell tickets, raised funds and witnessed the turning of the sod, more than a decade later, had one aim in common – to build a “place of worship”.

I was here yesterday, and just walked around the church – inside and outside – to get a sense of it.  Sometimes when we see something every day, pass by it often, it can just “be there” without us really noticing and recognising it for what it is. It can be like the unrecognised Jesus on the shore in today’s Gospel. If this celebration is about anything this evening, I am convinced it is about recognising where we are as a “Place of Worship”.  I looked at bricks in the interior walls and wondered if the entire church is built of brick but I don’t think it is.  Let’s imagine for a moment that it is.  Look at the bricks around you.  Now imagine pulling out a few of them – maybe near the bottom, then a few rows up – gaps appearing, emptiness where there should be solid stone.  Then the balance gets shifted and some of the bricks further up begin go lose their holding and slip.  Is it possible the building would fall, were enough of its bricks removed?  I’m inclined to think so and that’s where we are at maybe …….

Those bricks lower down might represent our youth … they are strong and supporting what rests above and what has gone before but if removed, there’s a glaring gap and an unsteady building.  Urlaur Abbey, was destroyed by invaders. Its treasures were plundered and its voice was silenced.  Sadly and truthfully today, the plundering is more subtle and the invaders don’t necessarily come from other places. The suppression can be more subtle and still there’s a desire to quieten the voice – I’m convinced we have to recognise that today as we give thanks for this church and all it has stood for.  We must ensure that all the bricks are in place, lending support to each other and that gaps are, insofar as possible, avoided so that the structure remains solid and the place of worship remains just that.

Seven apostles mentioned in today’s Gospel.  They thought they might “go fishing” – go back to where they had been before but that really wasn’t an option.  Jesus had become part of their lives and, once they allowed that happen, they could not very go back to their old ways.  Seven people mentioned in relation to Sr Mary’s letter – neither could any of them go back to their own ways once those words were read and once that meeting had taken place – the church, be it 600 or 300 years overdue had to be built.  Fifty years on – recalling the fifty years Sr Mary waited to enter the “visitors’ room” in that Newark Convent we commit to visiting this place of worship and ensuring that it be a place of joy-filled faith, of untiring hope and unfailing love.  We commit to the truth that, having encountered Christ here, we can never go back.

God bless all who made it possible and God guide all of us to raise our voices in thankful praise.

Amen!

 

Miles travelled ….

Miles travelled ….

Ordination Day - June 14th, 1987

Ordination Day – June 14th, 1987

Later today, we will gather in the Cathedral for the Funeral Mass of Bishop Tom Flynn.  May he rest in peace.

He was bishop of Achonry for close on thirty one years and I was just thinking he must have covered close on a million miles during that time.  Miles around the diocese and beyond in response to the call received to be the Shepherd – the good shepherd, who leaves not the flock unattended.

I first met him in September 1976 when I went to St Nathy’s as a First Year pupil.  He was President of the College and worked there with ten or eleven other priests and lay teachers.  It was, at that time, an all-boys school – boarding as well as “Day-Boys”.  I fitted into the latter group.  I was happy to go home in the evenings but, happy too, to spend a few hours there during the day.

Towards the end of the year (1976) it was announced that Fr Flynn was to be the new bishop of Achonry.  He replaced Bishop James Fergus who had been our bishop from 1947. He had retired the previous St Patrick’s Day but continued as bishop until a successor was appointed.  It seemed strange to know a man who was becoming a bishop and, though I can’t say I knew him well, I liked him as a President.

The students of the college pooled resources and contributed towards his Bishop’s Ring.  I recall it being presented to him and feeling happy that we had a part to play in something that would journey with him.  The ring had a purple stone and, in later years, bishops opted for a more plain style of ring but someone pointed out to me that Tom wore the other ring at many of our Ordinations.  It was probably his way of acknowledging the gift we had been part of.

I recall him coming out home to buy a car from my father.  It was a Peugeot 304 (SDI 245 – the registration as far as I remember) and he remained a customer and (more importantly) friend of my family from that day on.  I was grateful to him for that too ….

The parishes of the diocese were invited to submit names of people who might like to attend the Ordination.  I put my name in a box in the porch of Cloonloo Church.  I recall Fr Charlie Doherty sending me to collect it from the porch at the end of Mass so that the “raffle” could take place.  I was serving Mass that Sunday.  My name was drawn.  I was shocked and happy – never too lucky in raffles – but have reason to believe now, I might have been the only name in the box!!  That said, I was happy to be there and sat in the Cathedral on February 20th, 1977 as Fr Flynn became our bishop.

In 1981, I approached him about becoming a priest and he welcomed me and assured me of his support.  In fairness, I never felt far removed from that support.  Six years later, he came to Gurteen to ordain me and, to quote my father that day, it was “my happiest day ever”.  There seemed something homely about it all.  It was at home of course but, maybe more than that, we all seemed to know one another.

vincentordination

There were a lot of ordinations. I did a rough count yesterday and think Bishop Tom ordained thirty-one priests for the diocese during his time (others too – but thirty-one for the diocese) so you could say, on average, one a year.  During the years some have died or moved to other places in life but today I think twenty-two of the priests working in Achonry Diocese have been ordained by Bishop Tom.  The work of his hands – the “laying on” of his hands are, and please God, will be visible for some time to come.

He put a lot into it – certainly when able to do so.  He had a special awareness around Confirmation in a parish and used to visit the schools in preparation for the day.  Later that day, he’d meet the teachers after school, quite often for a meal and that night he’d meet the parents of the Confirmation classes in a local hall or venue.  It was a full day’s visitation and he seemed to take it in his stride.  Sometimes tiredness took its toll (on the priests more than Tom) and there’s a lovely story of Tom being in the middle of his “talk” when the Parish Priest who had obviously fallen asleep behind him, stretched and said “I think we’ll put on the kettle” – much to the amusement of the gathered parents and, in fairness, to Bishop Tom.

One of the things I liked about him was his availability to people, not least in times of tragedy.  How many homes he must have visited over the years where there was a sudden or tragic death – where parents grieved and communities wondered.  He seemed to be there with people at such times.

He had his share of ill-health but seemed to bounce back with an energy that was obvious.  Place mattered to him and I think Ballaghaderreen and its surrounds were central players in his story.  I’m sure he had dreams for the place that were not fully realised but efforts towards their completion were certainly part of his mission.  “Developing The West Together” was one of his dreams and, for all of us, that dream continues.  We live in hope and we hope with faith!

I had visited Bishop Tom a few times in the Nursing Home and he was always very welcoming – more welcoming than his condition would have allowed.  He certainly grew frail but his voice remained clear.  “Ah how are you at all?”  That was his usual greeting – often followed by a deafening silence!!  In fairness, he wasn’t always the easiest to sustain conversation with.  It would start with such enthusiasm but then wilt a little!  I think anyone who knows him – knew him – can identify with that.

Doubtless, like all of us, had he the chance to re-visit moments and approach them in a different way, it’s a chance he’d welcome.  Overall though, in the million miles travelled, he journeyed with good purpose and sought to make a difference.  He was happy to step back from it and entrust the work to Bishop Brendan and others.

“How are things in Kilmovee?” he asked me the last time I met him.  I shared a few bits with him but I knew the question was more an acknowledgement of who and where I was than a desire to update his files under “Kilmovee”!!  I’m glad I met him though – I know many of our priests visited him and I’m sure, though most likely he didn’t say it, he was happy to know he remained in our thoughts.  I asked him if there was anything he wanted “not a thing”, he replied.  That seemed to be the way with him – I’m sure he knew the days were shortening and his needs, from a material vantage point were few – it’s likely he was circling the wagons around his Spirit – I feel confident his prayers were heard.

“Hope House” was something he was very proud of.  I don’t know if he had any part in its naming but maybe it’s with that word “hope” I draw these lines to a close.

I hope he knows he made a difference.  I hope he rests in peace.  And, with him I think, we pray that our Church will never fail to have hope.

May he rest in peace.  Amen.

Do I look old to you Seán?

Do I look old to you Seán?

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.

Fr Andrew Finan, R.I.P.

Fr Andrew Finan, R.I.P.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOn Sunday morning, February 2nd 2014, Fr Andrew stepped into that Eternal Truth in which he believed, about which he preached and to which he invited many during his years of priestly ministry.

Ordained in 1980, he spent more than thirty years on the teaching staff of St Nathy’s College, Ballaghaderreen and was, at the time of his death, its Vice-President.

I never visited his rooms in St Nathy’s but, from memories of my time there as a student, imagine they were relatively simple – a sitting room and a bedroom, most likely – so the space he occupied during those years was relatively small but the rooms he filled immense.  For the rooms into which he stepped each day were the rooms of the mind and the imagination, the rooms of truth and discovery, the rooms of enthusiasm and the rooms of inspiring faith.

The rooms – were his students.  Initially St Nathy’s was an all-boys school but early enough in his time there, the schools of the town amalgamated and St Nathy’s became a co-ed school so, for almost thirty years, boys and girls from Ballaghaderreen, Gurteen, Frenchpark, Kilmovee, Carracastle, Monasteraden, Tibohine and many more places came to know him as priest and teacher –  educator and entertainer.   Like all teachers he lived in that strange place where the age of the audience remains constant though, for himself, the clock kept ticking and the years passing.  He seemed however to keep apace with that change and retained an ability to connect, year in and year out with his students.

I often wonder what he was like in class.  In conversation he was like a waterfall, words and ideas, phrases and images, puns (never intended of course!!), places, poets, songs, stories and of course, God … all fighting for their corner – all important – all hitting the river of life, the source and feeding again, the waterfall of his mind.  I imagine, at times, he was all over the shop in the classroom and that bits and pieces were dragged into a well-ordered curriculum that may once have looked good on paper at a Department of Education meeting, but Andrew felt it was just a helicopter pad!  I’d say he left pupils reeling at times –  “What was that about?”  It’s likely nonetheless that years later, maybe in a local field or office, a Government department, a classroom, a kitchen or perhaps on the Tube in London, the subway in New York or looking out over Sydney Harbour, some of those students thought, “Ah, that’s what he was saying to us …..”

It often takes time to recognise the truth, to appreciate the depth and to recognise the genius.

I was never a student of Andrew’s.  I started my days in Maynooth, more or less the same time he walked into the Staff Room in St Nathy’s.  I remember him coming to visit us in Maynooth with another priest of the diocese sometime during my first year there.  He told us that he’d met a student in St Nathy’s that day – one I remembered well from the previous year and one that I’d have thought was a bit on the wild side! (Who am I to judge??)  He told us that he stopped him on the corridor and said “Is there anything I can say or do to influence you to become a priest?”  He looked at us for reaction and then said “Now, I’ve called him, it’s up to God to choose him”!!   I remember laughing when he said this.  Oddly enough I don’t think Andrew laughed.  It’s clear to me now that he was exactly on the button.  The call has to be direct.  It can’t be much more direct than the one he offered that day. No, he didn’t become a priest but he heard a very direct call. I’ve no doubt but that lad went home with a fresh thought that evening – “Was Fr Finan serious?”  He was ….

So, I was never his student and have no idea how he was in class.  I have been a brother priest for nearly twenty-seven years, nine of those in Ballaghaderreen where he also lived.  I heard of his homilies at the 8am Mass on many Sundays. People either got them or they didn’t but he seemed to have a flow of thought that either carried you or overwhelmed you!! Either reaction, it seems to me, is acceptable and far, far better than indifference.

I remember someone telling me that he went one day from the word “Levite” in a Scripture passage to Levi Jeans and explained that the levites were makers of tents, canvas, denim and …. Who knows, maybe as someone searched later in the day for a coin in the bottom of a jeans pocket, the mind went back to 8am Mass, the Levites, the callings, the miracles – back to the Altar and Eucharist.  That’s why he made the connection … so that the penny might drop as someone searched for one.

What I know today for certain is that it’s in the past twelve months I came to know the man we buried yesterday.  Just over a year ago, I stood at the back of Corrownagh Church (Ballisodare Parish) and heard him speak at his mother’s Funeral Mass.  I was too late to join the concelebrants but happy to stand at a distance and listen to a son speak so lovingly of his mother and reassuringly to his only brother.  His mother had been ill for many years and, towards the end the illness took her sight and voice.  He spoke of her “White Martyrdom”, recognised by the church as the sacrifice offered without the spillage of blood – the offering of one’s sufferings for the greater Glory of God.  He talked about the noises she made that, his brother seemed better able to interpret, and compared them to a ship, lost and out on the sea, sounding its fog horn in search of recognition and the reassuring response from the lighthouse.  He spoke of her moving from Nazareth House to the hospital and asking for a scarf to cover her head. He said he wondered why she needed this, since she was moving from one enclosed environment to another.  He then realised she wanted to cover her head, since that’s what women of her day, did in public.  It was a sign of reverence for God that you covered your head.  That’s where his mother’s request had its roots.  He used a fourth image that, within days, I’d lost and I remember texting him and asking for it.  In fairness, he replied almost immediately with the word but, out of context I couldn’t make the connection.  I felt very proud of him that day and thought he did his mother – his brother – a great service and not without personal cost.

He stood at the back of the church that day, looking worn and tired but acknowledging all who passed by.  It was, more than likely, a turning point for him.  He hadn’t been very well for a while before that but we didn’t realise what lay in store.

I wasn’t at the Month’s Mind Mass but he told me afterwards he had to be helped into the church.  He was happy nonetheless and obviously so, that he had been able to celebrate his mother’s Funeral Mass.

Some weeks later, Andrew was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease.  Bishop Kelly spoke to us of that at the Funeral Mass yesterday (a truly powerful homily) and of the obvious consequences that diagnosis held for Andrew – indeed for us all.

It’s since that time, and regretfully so, that I came to know, more fully and meaningfully the man that was Andrew.  I visited him with James McDonagh in Galway and that was the first of a number of visits over the months.  Each time, I came away realising what a good man he was.

He was so grateful to people.  He was especially grateful to the students in St Nathy’s who were so kind to him.  He told me that he had a number of falls in the school and the students treated him with such kindness.  I’m sure he knew, deep down, that he had a very influential part to play in the development of that same kindness.

I went to see him before going to America and thought it probable that I might not see him again.  He asked me for a blessing and, before giving it I said “and you might give me one”.  I said the words, made the sign of the Cross and, as I was about to leave he looked directly at me.  His arms and hands, at this stage, were powerless and lay unmoved by his side.  He blessed me with words – “As one whose journeying has stopped, I pray God’s blessing on your journey.  As one who cannot move, I ask God to bless every step you take, to help you enjoy life to the full ……” I can’t remember the exact words after that but I truly felt blessed.  If I was a young lad again on a corridor in St Nathy’s, he’d have influenced me to become a priest ….

I’m glad we had other times to chat after that.  I called to see him one day and he looked at me and said; “I’m here thinking about Philip Corcoran from Monasteraden”  Philip died in June 2012, he too had MND.  Andrew knew that I’d known him and celebrated his Funeral Mass.  The link was obvious. He asked me about him and, deep down, he was probably wondering about time.

Bishop Brendan spoke to us yesterday about Andrew’s use of that time.  It was so reassuring to know that Bishop Brendan spent so much time with him – vital time, blessed and sacred – God bless him for that time spent.  He said the last words he was able to decipher from Andrew were “I don’t mind” … He also told us that a number of weeks ago, Andrew indicated that he wanted him to read some Scripture to him and the passage his motions directed Brendan to was the dreaded moment for Jesus of the “agony in the garden”.  That was the Gospel Passage reflected upon at the Funeral Mass yesterday. Andrew surely knew that garden.

He knew too the support of Peter, James and John – that collection of family, friends and medical professionals who accompanied him in the garden.  I’m sure at times they felt sleepy and wondered if they stayed awake with him – I’m sure we all wondered if we could do more – but the truth remains, they were close at hand, loyal and giving.  May his family and close friends know joy and receive solace from that truth.

Yesterday’s Funeral Mass was deeply moving, beautifully simple and absolutely essential.  It gave us a chance to gather around Andrew, his priesthood and his memory.  It gave us too, the chance to recognise that “Garden” of suffering and of blood-soaked tears, where we meet difficulty, ask questions, find the scent of an answer and somehow, the strength (that is God) to carry on.

Andrew is now buried in his native parish.  I travelled with the funeral from Ballaghaderreen, through my own parish of Gurteen, onto Ballymote, Collooney and out the “old road” to Ballisodare.  I was impressed to see many of the cars we met along the way, pull in, stop a moment and acknowledge that someone (most likely unknown to them) had died.  It’s a lovely tradition – that we allow our lives stop for a moment because someone else’s has stopped – and I think Andrew too would have liked that.

The stopping is over now, the prayers are said now and the grave filled in but the man, the priest, the memories remain. There’s no doubt the memories will fade in time for many of us and life will go on as usual but there’s something telling me that his name will pop up in conversation and in prayer many times.

His mother’s influence, her White Martyrdom, her calling to the shore, her covering her head in reverence … none of it, absolutely none of it, was wasted on him.  He learned well.

May Andrew rest in peace.

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A message board is available on our diocesan site if anybody would like to share a memory of Fr Andrew.  Click here

Vocations Sunday

This weekend we celebrate Vocations Sunday and, in word and prayer, seek to encourage people to consider the possibility of a vocation to the priesthood or religious life.  On Holy Thursday, at our Chrism Mass, I was asked to prepare a Post Communion Reflection so thought I might share here the words I used that day.

Lord, from the earliest days of your public ministry, you involved yourself in the needs of all you met. 

You were with your people from the turning of poured water into wine to the pouring of your own blood mixed with Cana’s water on the cross.  Some people were spoken for “they have no wine” and others found their own voice; “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom”.  For some the request for healing was instant and others, like the prodigal son, had to be given time to “come to their senses”.  Always though, you were there for people and with people.

Likewise, you remain with us; standing together as Diocese today. We praise your presence in our midst.  As people and priests, young and old, strong and infirm, healthy and weak, enthusiastic and tired, faith-filled and searching, we take the message of this day to our hearts.  Oils blessed and consecrated.  Lives consecrated and renewed – people, united in prayer – we take it all in Lord and offer what we have to you, that you may take it, shape it, renew and rebuild it, so that our diocese and its people live the Gospel message.

The priest in us says “yes” again to your call.  Yes to its uncertainties and tensions and yes to its glorious opportunities to be something of your presence to those who seek a voice and have a voice.  Yes to its call to bring these oils from their silver containers to the parishes and people of our diocese with the enduring promise of hope and companionship in the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation and Holy Orders and of life Eternal in the Sacrament of the Sick.  To the brokenness of bread and the bitter-sweetness of chalice blood we commit ourselves as well.  We offer our voices and our hearing, our good days and our bad that they may be rooted in Holy Thursday, remain loyal through Good Friday and proclaim the good news that “he is risen” on Easter Sunday and beyond.

As Church; lay, religious and ordained, we dedicate our “yes” to you this day:  the “yes” of parents towards the shaping and loving of a new generation,  the “yes” of a whispered rosary, a lighted candle in an early morning chapel; the “yes” of tending to the sick and infirm;  the “yes” of Amen to Eucharist.  We dedicate as well the “yes” of the many reluctant but necessary yeses that see Simons and Veronicas step forward from the crowd.  We have the “yes” in us, Lord and we offer it to you for it is only in you and through you its potential can be reached.

Remain with us Lord.  You know that we know that we need you. 

Amen!

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