The Advent Wreath, week by week, sees the lighting of another candle. The intention being to complete the circle in time for Christmas and to light the central candle – the white one – representing Christ. For this lighting to take place, the other candles need to have their moment too. It would make no sense to light just one candle and leave it at that. The journey through Advent is represented in the weekly lighting. So too, it seems to me, the story of our Faith Journey. Lights along the way – each one receiving the touch of the flame of faith, so that it can take its place in the telling of the Sacred Story.
Earlier today I shared these words at Mass in St Agnes’ Cathedral. I’d first written them a few years ago for our parish magazine and updated them recently for an article in The Messenger Magazine. After Mass a number of people told me they liked the lines so thought I’d include them here again. They’re intended as a reflection on the years since Ordination – thirty years ago now – in 1987.
There was, in poetry, a time
I thought things had to rhyme.
That was, in poetry, the only way
at least that’s what I used to say!
But of that today I’m not so sure
could it be I’m more mature?
As a student in St Nathy’s College, I never fully understood poems that didn’t rhyme. More than that, I disliked them and the “poets” who wrote them seemingly unaware that poems should have a rhyming pattern!
So is that I’m more mature?
Like you, of that, I’m not so sure
From whence then came the clue
Some don’t rhyme and some just do
The answer I suppose lies in life … as a boy, a student in Maynooth, a newly ordained priest I knew there were questions but I thought answers were easily found. Things had an order about them – a sort of pattern like the rhyming poem.
The rhyme continued. Most people went to Mass. Churches were relatively full most of the time. Prayers were said and it seemed so important to keep the Parish together. I enjoyed those early days.
“The Lord be with you”, I would say
“And also with you” as one they’d pray
Great to see you; and so it was
Together then we’d stand and pause
Sins confessed, Sacred Story shared
His Body and Blood for all, nothing spared.
First baptism, first wedding – such joyful occasions, shared easily with people oozing joy and happiness owned the day. I don’t remember the First Confession I heard and often think that tells its own reassuring story of the sacredness of that Sacrament. Lines drawn in the sand, and no need to re-live or re-visit – that’s the way it’s meant to be, people move on renewed and refreshed having been forgiven through the gentleness of the Sacrament. First Communion Days and Confirmation in the parish all combined to enrich the rhyme.
He died in a tragic accident. His wife and children were devastated and the community drew to a halt. I went to the hospital for the removal and an elderly woman told me afterwards how sorry she felt for me in my short-sleeved shirt. I could as easily have been a boy in short trousers. Words were scarce and the rhyme was gone … it’s hard to speak in rhyme or think in rhyme when people’s hearts are broken. There were others like that; sudden deaths, car accidents, cancer and sickness, loss of Faith, decline in practice, indifference, hostility, scandals, doubts, anger, negative press, decline of vocations …. and still, through it all, the whispered refrain “I the Lord of sea and sky, I have heard my people cry. I, who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright …… Whom shall I send?”
The rhyme was in decline but the poem was still needed. I looked for signs, listened for voices, sought direction – wondered! Somehow, thanks be to God, the heart of the poem remained intact, enriched even by some of life’s questions and held sacred in the lives of many good people who cradled the faith, caressed the verse and, in time, helped me realise:
poems don’t have to rhyme but
they should speak
to a soul in need of Grace
a wound in need of healing
a heart in need of mending
a darkness in need of light
a thought in need
of sharing
And that’s what I want to say. Despite the difficulties and the sadness, the changes and the uncertainties, the Poem must go on. We must find time to share thoughts and place with one another, to bring people to that point where the Word is heard even if not fully grasped and prayers are prayed even in uncertainty.
I celebrated Mass this morning and remembered my mother, Mary, who died eight years ago today. She died on the Feastday of Our Lady of Knock and, as I write these lines, I am looking at Mass from Knock Shrine marking the launch of a year’s journey towards the Word Meeting of Families, to be held in Dublin next August. As I ask God to bless my mother’s memory, so too I ask God to bless that preparation and all families.
The Gospel at Mass today is the story of the “rich young man” who asked Jesus what had he to do to enter God’s Kingdom. Jesus lists some of the commandments and the man replies that he already keeps these and wonders what else he need do. Jesus tell him to sell his possessions, give the money to the poor and then to follow him. The man walks away, saddened by these words, because he is a man of great wealth.
There’s talk of a Solar Eclipse taking place later today – when the sun’s light is “blocked” and day literally becomes night for a little while, though the sun shines.
In the few words I shared at Mass, I tried to draw a link between these three realities. My mother’s death brought a barrier that cannot be crossed this side of Eternity. I catch glimpses of her, welcome glimpses, in dreams, photos and videos and in the words that come into mind, words she’d speak and in the tone she’d have used. These remain glimpses nonetheless and I cannot see her the way I used to. I miss that of course and always will. The truth remains, in and from our Faith, that my mother continues to be – in a way I cannot fully grasp or imagine but remains nonetheless.
The Gospel man, who had come to know Christ as “good” wants to do the right thing by him but finds himself at a loss and walks away from Jesus. In that walk, Jesus too is eclipsed and can no longer be seen by the man who truly wants to see. It strikes me that Jesus, though not visible to the man now, has not gone anywhere. All the man need to is turn around and walk towards Jesus again.
Equally the eclipsed Sun, though darkened by the passing of the planets and the wonders of nature, continues to shine though we cannot see it.
In all these then, eclipse is a temporary barrier to the LIGHT but the light remains and has to shine – always to shine – if only we can turn around or be patient as we await its re-emergence.
My mother, the Gospel man and the eclipsed sun have much in common today. May the “sun” and THE SON shine for all of us. Amen.
Yesterday (July 29th) I was in Cloonloo Church for the baptism of my nephew's son - my first Grand Nephew! - Tommy Scott Sherlock. Bill and Aisling's son arrived into the world some seven weeks premature but, thanks be to God, has done so well. He's a lovely child and a blessing to us all. Long may he enjoy life, happiness, contentment and grow into the Faith shared with him in yesterday's celebration of Baptism.
It was wonderful to see so many people in the church. More than half-filled, I'd say, with a great sense of joy around this little boy and good wishes for his parents who have adapted so well to this life-changing role. I was proud of them too and pleased that so many gathered to be with them on this special day.
We baptized him "TOMMY SCOTT" (Thomas) and I wondered about his second name. When I was baptized, for some reason I have never fully understood, my baptismal name was Patrick Joseph Vincent. I understood, in later life, that I was Patrick because I was baptized on St Patrick's Day and Joseph because it was in St Joseph's Church Cloonloo (and I had an uncle Joe) but the name I'd be called was and is Vincent. I never fully grasped why it was last on the list!! Patrick and Joseph are there in the background though and important to me. I have one friend who told me when she was baptized the priest would not allow her parents (well maybe strongly advised!!) not to have a second name. He felt it was a bit of a wasted exercise! She hadn't until her Confirmation. So I thought last night about Tommy and about Scott!
Aisling had gone to visit her brother in Scotland. She was accompanied by her father. They decided to travel by boat as flying might be a bit of a problem and there was plenty time. She had seven weeks to go! As we know too well, the script is not in our hands and, whilst visiting with her brother, the time came. Her child was born in Dundee. They were all so grateful to the hospital and staff there for the support given and the care taken. I visited one day and had the chance to witness that myself. It was, like many other things in life, a blessed moment and all things considered the right time and place for this little boy to make his entrance. Dramatic but welcome! Anxiety gave way to relief, uncertainty to certainty and sighs of relief were breathed alongside prayers of gratitude.
Tommy "SCOTT" then in honour of the land of his birth. My Grand Nephew was born in Scotland and though he will grow, with God's help, to be a proud Irishman, his origins - his birthplace - is Scotland.
In time, I hope he'll be told of another Tom Sherlock who followed in his father's footsteps and learned a trade in another Scottish City. He will hear of his Great Great Grandfather and Great Great Great Grandfather who both worked in the Botanical Gardens in Edinburgh. As they returned to Moygara, could it ever have crossed their minds that one day, their flesh and blood would find life in the soil into which each of them, in turn, placed seeds that became plants, seeds that became food and tilled gardens that flourished?
Isn't it a strange world? Just as well we don't write the script. The pen is in far better hands!
Thanks be to God. Amen.
I think his second name will be remembered. God bless you Tommy Scott.
110 Years ago
My grandfather, Thomas Sherlock, in a Glass House, Botancial Gardens Edinburgh c1907
110 Years Later
My Grand Nephew, Tommy Scott Sherlock, just after his baptism in St Joseph's Church, Cloonloo 29th July 2017
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