Vocations Sunday 2018

Vocations Sunday 2018

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday.  We reflect on Vocation within the church.  Vocation at its widest, includes every man, woman and child of us, who tries daily to respond to God’s Call to be a better person and a sign of His presence.  We focus too on vocations to priesthood, permanent diaconate and religious life.  It is from here, these few lines come.  I wondered yesterday what I had to say that might not have been said before and realised that I’ve nothing new to bring to the people, other than a belief that priesthood is still a call worth hearing, considering and responding to.  Deeply aware of my own limitations but also still happy that I made the decision to travel this road, I wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.  The idea of writing a letter came to my mind – a letter to the people but then, I thought maybe a letter to myself might be worth looking at ….. this is how it worked out!


Dear Vincent,

Thought I’d drop you a line.  It’s Vocations Sunday and I know you’re wondering how to rise to it again, to encourage and pray for vocations when, for more than thirty years, you’ve done the same and nobody seems to have responded.  I know that at times, you find yourself going through phases of self-doubt about the effectiveness of your own vocation.  I’m sure you’re wondering who I am!

I’m that boy in you who knew priests to be decent people who seemed to bring happiness to your family home and who showed themselves to be friends. I’m that teenager in you who, in St Nathy’s College, came to admire the priests on the staff – for the bits and pieces they did “beyond the call of duty” to encourage students to do their best, not just in the classroom but on the sports field too.  I’m the son in you who heard your mother’s prayers to Fr Casey a priest who died back in 1939, when your mother was scarcely a teenager herself, but remembered forever his kindness to her family, after her father’s death when she was just seven years old.  I’m the Spirit in you that made you think there was a place for you in priesthood and encouraged you to go ahead – to give it a try.

I am the family and neighbours around you who wished you well that September and who cared more about where you were going than your leaving cert results.  I am a grandmother of a school friend who lit candles for you every time she passed the church throughout your years in Maynooth.  I am the friends you met – men and women – who made you feel special and loved.  I am the dream within you that accompanied you through the years and assured you that the road chosen, like the one to Emmaus, was an open road but a safe one too where you’d not walk alone.

I am the twenty-four year old in you who knelt before Bishop Flynn in June 1987, put your hands in his and promised to do your best and who lay mouth-under, on the floor of Gurteen Church, as the saints were called down on top of you in a litany of prayer – “Bless this chosen man”, “Bless this chosen man, make him holy”. “Bless this chosen man, make him holy and consecrate him for his sacred duties” …. I am that young priest who was welcomed to his first parish by decent people who helped him believe he’d done the right thing with his life, though he had much to learn.

I am the fifty-five year old in you.  Standing this weekend in a parish, surrounded by a community at prayer.  People looking to the priest in you to offer a word, to be a friend and above all to break open the Scriptures and to nourish through Eucharist.  I am the priest in you who wants you to push yourself and to have courage and self-conviction.  I am the ongoing dreamer in you who believes the Church can find her voice a-fresh and that the world can be a better place and will be a better place when it opens itself to see again the presence of God and the real difference a lived faith can make.

I am your vocation Vincent, encouraging you to take all that’s good from your past, to accept your mistakes and to reach out again and again, to hope and believe again and again, that the story, the dream of the boy may find words in the mouth of the man and say, even if you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said it …. “this is a good life”.

They’re listening Vincent, speak to them!

Rainbows and Promises Kept

Rainbows and Promises Kept

We've begun!

Nuala Hawkins, R.I.P.

A priest in the neighbouring diocese is offering "DRIVE-THRU" Ashes today.  It's intended for those who might not have time to attend Mass today and there's merit in it. Those who choose to stop the car and interrupt their journey will be marked with the Lenten Sign that is Ashes.  Come night time, they'll have faded away but the moment of contact will not be forgotten.

I just had Morning Mass here in the parish - one of three I'll celebrate today - and again that mark has been made.  It's not about show or display but, I think, a willingness to allow ourselves be marked in His name.

There's a sadness in our Parish this Lenten morning since one of our parishioners died suddenly and unexpectedly last night.  A woman, in her mid-sixties and full of life, who had so much to give and live for. She worked very closely with me in Urlaur Church - where she was sacristan but much, much more. When I came to the parish she was a member of the Parish Pastoral Council and served two terms, bringing to it many of her talents. Indeed the Early Morning Mass for Lent that we've just celebrated was her suggestion a number of years ago. She planned on being with us this morning - she was, in our prayers and thoughts around her and her family.

She noticed the things I'd so easily miss, point them out but only when she had an idea in mind to do something creative and meaningful. Last Saturday, she pointed out that the Thurible was in serious need of cleaning.  Typical of her, before pointing it out, she had gone on line to find out the best ways of cleaning something that had been left far too long without cleaning.  The remedies were amusing but I knew she'd follow through.  She told me she was going to take it home to work on it and added "I hope you won't have a funeral".  I assured her we'd manage and thanked her for her attentiveness.  Her husband came home from work yesterday to find her dead on their kitchen floor.  He called me and I went immediately, shocked and scarcely able to take in the reality that she had died.  As I bent to pray over her and for her, I noticed that she was holding in her hand the little tray from the Thurible - shining as it had not shone in years.  Her final act of service to God was cleaning the Thurible from which arises the incense of prayer.  It shone in her hand as she had shone in our midst.  I blessed her with the Holy Water of my tears that are again flowing as I write these words.  There are so many good people around us and often we may well not give them the recognition they deserve.

About an hour before I got the call, I was in Ballaghaderreen and took the picture of the rainbow, featured above.  I love rainbows and this one just seemed to end or begin (depending which way you look at it) from this little row of houses on the Castlerea Road.  There's a promise linked with the Rainbow - an Old Testament Promise that God would never abandon HIs people.  I pray that Nuala Hawkins, the woman I speak of, has encountered the fullness of that promise.

So - the thought for today - make the most of it for those with whom you share life, value them, thank them, reassure them, acknowledge them and pray with and for them.

How the light got in

How the light got in

Last night I put a few words here when I heard that Leonard Cohen had died.  Somehow I managed to delete them.  Not the biggest loss in the history of writing for sure!  I was sorry to hear he had died.  About ten minutes before I heard this news I had mentioned him in conversation with some people.  I was saying how much I admired him.

He was a wonderful weaver of words and so gracious in their sharing and maybe even openness to interpretation.  I can’t pretend to know everything he ever wrote, or anything close, but the bits I got to know and love made a huge difference to me.  For many years I have used his words in various settings as I tried to shape some of my own around them.  I felt he had a wonderful gift and I am a firm believer in the power of tune and lyric when brought together.

Certainly his music and words will continue to be part of my own journey and wondering about life.  Leonard said of himself one time that, as a child he had buried something in the garden at his family home and that he felt he had spent the rest of his life trying to find what was buried.  I have no idea what he referenced there but the journey sits well with the man.  In the coming days, I will link again to some of my favourite YouTube videos (many of them already on the blog – just put Leonard Cohen in the search bar) and bring a few of them and some of the thoughts around them together.

I travelled from Dublin airport tonight, having spent the past days in Honduras, and remembering some of what I met there, I coupled these memories with many of Leonard’s songs that are in my music collection.  Words like “The sprinters that we carry and the cross we left behind, come healing of the spirit come healing of the mind” and “Going home without my sorrow, going home sometime tomorrow, going home to where it’s better than before, going without my burden, going home behind the curatain, going home without the costume that I wore” – these, with some of the songs from his most recent album, speak of a man searching, trusting, doubting, wondering, dismissing, finding, believing …. in short, a man living.

He brought many sides of life with him, and travelled many roads of exploration but my prayer for him now is that in response to his lyrics in the first track of his new album (You Want It Darker) “I’m ready My Lord!”, the Lord smiles and says, “Leonard, I know ….”

Ring the bell that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in

I can’t say this is my favourite piece but I like it because it’s Leonard making something of another’s words – respecting the author and keeping him centre stage, whilst allowing the message reach other ears and take the hearer to a place of wonder.  He does it well.

https://youtu.be/VGEWQRL2sJk?rel=0

You’d wonder what his speech would have been like, had he received the Nobel Prize (which I think he should have received) given the graciousness of these words.  If you’ve heard them before, listen again and, if not, prepare to be touched by a man’s gratitude.

Words acknowledged

Words acknowledged

Firstly I want to say thanks to all who visited the blog in the past few days.  I just did a count and more than 5600 views of the previous post have taken place.  This is undoubtedly the biggest flow of traffic I’ve had and I’m not naive enough to think it’s likely to happen again soon!!  I am thankful to the website www.balls.ie who kindly picked up on the piece I posted last Sunday and asked if it could be re-posted on theiir website. Needless to say, I was happy for that to happen since the words were born of a sports event and to think that lovers of sport, especially GAA, might get to read them was special for me.  I was told by the site that more than 75,000 views of the post had taken place and the man added “that’s a conservative estimate” and that more than 10,000 shares had taken place on Facebook.

Before the post, there’s an acknowledgement to be made as well; because I’m not sure it would have happened at all had a man not spoken to me after Mass in Urlaur.  I spoke more or less the same words at Sunday Masses in Kilmovee and Urlaur – focusing on the two photos featuring Andy Moran, his daughter Charlotte and Bernard Brogan. The man seemed teary eyed (I hope it wasn’t just a cold) and he said he felt very sorry for Mayo though, like myself, he’s not a native of the county, and added “your words were meaningful and helpful”. Then he said “Thanks for them”.  That’s all he said but as I came home from Urlaur I thought he’d said a lot. I decided to try to remember the words and put them on the blog.  So it’s likely had that man not spoken to me after Mass, the post might never have taken place.  So thanks to him as well.

In any case, I don’t live in a place where posts of mine go “viral” but it was a nice place to be for a few days because I truly meant those words.  The photos (not mine of course) painted a thousand and more words and the few I added were just that – a few added.

So thanks again to all mentioned above and to YOU who are reading these words.  Chances are you’re one of the regulars and, as such, you’re my audience and friend.  Thanks for the loyalty.

Now I want to share some words that a priest sent to me during the week. I’ve just put them on the front of our Parish Bulletin for this week.  The priest, Fr John Cullen, was recently appointed Parish Priest of Roscommon and he is editor of The Angelus (Diocese of Elphin publication).  Fr John writes some very meaningful reflections and this, to me, is among the best of the best.  It’s as timely as it’s sad and as necessary as it’s timely.  He calls it “Refugee Prayer”.

I believe it’s important to acknowledge words that are meant to help, heal and provoke a thought. So thanks John for sending me this prayer.

_________________________________

REFUGEE PRAYER

On the wide open seas
our small boats drift.
We search for land
during endless days and nights.

We are the flotsam
floating on the vast ocean.
We are the dust,
wandering in endless space.
Our cries are swamped
and lost in the howling wind.
Our stinging tears, one by one
float into the vast ocean.

Without food, family and friends
our children lie exhausted
until they cry no more.
We thirst for our land,
but are turned back from every shore.

Our distress signals rise and soar
to the open sky and beyond.
The passing ships do not stop.
How many boats have perished?
How many people are beneath the waves
of the open seas, now in a watery grave?

Lord Jesus, do you hear the prayer of our hearts?
Lord, do you hear our weeping sobs of wordless prayer
from the abyss of death?

O welcoming shore, we long for you!
We pray that the bread of mercy
a crust of compassion and
a few crumbs of loving friendship
be given to us today,
from any land to
nourish and sustain us.
Amen.

 

Wind beneath my wings

Wind beneath my wings

Today is Ascension Day – when we recall Jesus’ leaving this earth’s surface to be drawn into the Heavens.  It’s a moment of separation and a moment of promise.

In recent days we have heard much talk about the Boeing 767 making its way around the West Coast of Ireland from its home in Shannon, Co. Clare to its new home in Enniscrone, Co. Sligo.  The story has captured people’s imaginations and, quite literally, thousands of people watched its journey.

The story had its genesis in the mind of a local man, David McGowan, who saw the plane being transformed from a parked and empty shell to become a home where people could camp, enjoy Co. Sligo and explore the West of Ireland.  The idea took root, form and shape and is well on the way now to being realised.

As the plane made its way along the West Coast, carried on a barge brought in from Southampton the thing that struck me most was the “clipped” wings.  The plane could never fly again.  I imagine its engines too have been decommissioned but even if they’re not, without wings, there’s no more flying for #planesailing or #767Enniscrone as it became known on Twitter.

That image of wings sits well with today’s Feast Day.  Wings of prayer.  Wings of Old and New Testament, wings of Faith that allow us rise above our doubts and darkness to see what may have become blurred and find what may have been lost.

As the plane made its final journey into Enniscrone last night, there was a waiting involved – waiting for the “high tide” that would allow the plane be “beached”.  I’ve no doubt there was gratitude for that high tide and you’d like to think David and all there, found time to say “thanks be to God” for the wonders of nature and the stirrings of the sea.  That gratitude is at the heart of all we are meant to be about in life.

So, the question of the day, for me anyway, looks to gratitude and to those for whom we must be grateful.  People and situations, God and Faith that is the “wind beneath our wings” and allows us soar above our doubts, worries and pains to find peace for the moment and strength for the journey.

Gratitude for wings unclipped … gratitude for the wind beneath them …. gratitude for stories that can still capture our imagination.  Gratitude for Jesus’ ministry on Earth, his Ascension and promise to send us, as he has done, the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit who ensures good ideas become lived reality …..

and the song to go with it ….

 

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