by Vincent | Jan 22, 2017 | General Interest, Reflections, Photography
Looking through Twitter yesterday I noticed this photo and it caught my eye. An image captured from one of the many marches around the world that sought to express something less than pleasure at the election of the Donald Trump as President of the United States, the slogan was a play on his election slogan: “Make America Great Again”. I liked the call to kindness. Of course the banner was given to the child and was not of her making but she presents the message and there’s something believable in a child calling us to kindness.
I was struck by the difference one word can make. There’s nothing wrong with greatness and to be told you’re “great” is as welcoming as its flattering but there’s something very special about kindness. I think, at day’s end, we’d prefer to be remembered for kindness rather than greatness.
The slogan then goes beyond America to a more immediate “homeland” – the homeland that is “me”. Maybe we need to hear that slogan applied to ourselves and, if there’s been any slippage, to let the message sink in “Make ME kind again”.
by Vincent | Jul 13, 2016 | General Interest, Reflections, Poetry, homily
I was asked earlier today to write a few lines for the tenth edition of our Parish Magazine. I said yes. There was no suggestion around what I should write but that’s the way the editorial team has been with me over the years. It’s left to myself. I was reminded of words I wrote nearly two years ago for the magazine. They’re elsewhere in this blog but I thought I’d bring them to the front again. It was a thought around the changes I’ve encountered since ordination but also of the consistency that remains for all of us, found in the day to day living of life and journeying in faith ……
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?
The lines above speak to something of the truth. 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 so obviously unaware that poems should have a rhyming pattern. I remember pointing this out on one occasion, only to be told by a fellow pupil who understood things at a deeper level than I and who knew, even then, that poems didn’t have to rhyme: “Vincent, that is the basic essence of poetry”! I disliked him as well that day (had I been on Facebook, I’d probably have de-friended him!!)
It was handy when the poem rhymed! It was easier to learn, easier to remember and easier to churn out on a page of an Inter or Leaving Certificate answer book.
Back to the poetry!
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 thought answers were easily found. Things had an order about them – a sort of pattern like the rhyming poem. Before I was ordained, people wished me well. They seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing, felt the need for me to be a priest and, when I was ordained they assured me of their prayers, friendship and lasting support.
Most people went to Mass. Churches were well filed, if not full most of the time. Prayers were said and it seemed so important to keep the Parish together. I enjoyed those early days. I drove too fast and missed a lot of what was so powerfully on display. Good and decent people, doing the best they could for family, church and parish – for me; “the new curate!”
The rhyme was in full flow ……
“The Lord be with you”, I would say
“And also with you” as one we’d pray
Great to see you and so it was
And then to think we’d stand and pause
Sins confessed, Sacred Story shared
His Body for all, nothing spared.
First baptism, first wedding – such joyful occasions, shared easily with people oozing joy. Their new child, their early days of love, how easily to stand with them on days like that when photos were taken, words spoken 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 by one in need too of God’s forgiveness. The rhythm of the Sacraments added its own shape to 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, relationships ended, rows between people, loss of Faith, decline in practice, indifference, hostility, doubts and anger, nobody in Maynooth …. and still 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?”
Somewhere in and through all of this, unknown to myself, I leaned that …..
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 hope this piece isn’t out of place here – It’s just another angle, another verse in a lifelong poem, shared not by a poet but one who is privileged to share this place with all of you in a very special way and by one who depends so heavily on all of you for word and verse, song and tune, prayer and peace!
Rhyming or not, what we are living is poetry.
by Vincent | Feb 10, 2016 | Reflections, Lent 2016
Last night was very cold and miserable. I went down to the church around 9pm for a few minutes and passed the astroturf pitch beside my house. There was a game in progress. Oblivious to the unpleasant weather, young men from the locality played a game of football as intense as any. Oblivious too, to their sole observer, I was in awe of their dedication and enthusiasm. Far from the corporate box, I stood alone on the road, rain falling around me and watched and listened as they urged each other to victory, rejoiced in the scored goal, lamented the one that just went wide of the post or questioned the one that went over the side line “our ball”! I left them to it.
A few months ago, shortly after the pitch came into use, I met a man from the parish. I’d say he’s well into his thirties now. He asked me what I thought of the pitch and I said I liked it very much and that I was happy to see it being used so much. I knew he was one of the ones that used it. Indeed he was one of the “stars” last night. “There’s only one thing wrong with it”, he said. I couldn’t imagine what that might be so I asked. “I wish I was fifteen again”, he smiled! I knew what he meant. He’d love to have had that facility in the parish during his teenage years.
That’s where I think we start Lent 2016. Is there a place or time we need to go back to? A time we might wish for when things were different, perhaps even better? That’s where we go today, in the quietness of heart and with Spirit renewed to reclaim what we might have lost and live again the fullness of our Faith potential.
The ashes will fade but the mark and promise of the Cross remains.
by Vincent | Dec 28, 2015 | Reflections, Religion
Was just taking a look through some old posts a while ago and thought I might give this one a re-run!! Not laziness but I sort of like the message …
Two young people were sitting at the same table as me. They were having a conversation and, though I didn’t set out to eavesdrop, I couldn’t really help but hear them. They were two students in Maynooth college and they were discussing college life. I had a clearer view of the lad as he was sitting across the table from me. I’d describe him as “student” – a sort of laid-back look, cool, longish hair, unshaved, casually dressed (but aware of looking the part nonetheless) and well able to talk. She seemed very nice, pleasant and happy to be chatting with him. They seemed to know each other but, I thought, not too well. Maybe he wanted to get to know her better, I can’t be sure. I’d not blame him if he did! They talked about their courses, the train-fare and how they were choosing to stay at home as it saved them a bit of money but they found the daily commute tiring. They seemed to enjoy their life in Maynooth and, as they talked, my mind wandered back to my own days there and I could identify with their enjoyment.
They talked about socialising and the things they liked to do. It was obvious they mixed study and pleasure with an ease you’d admire. “Where do you go for a drink?” she asked. “I’m a Pioneer”, he replied. I wondered. I felt he’d add, “Ah no, I’m only joking” but he didn’t. He said he saved a lot by not drinking. I knew he was serious. She took it in her stride and said what she liked to drink but there was a real respect there.
I’d not have added “pioneer” to his list of attributes but I was so happy to hear him say it. It seemed so natural and so right. It didn’t interfere with his ability to enjoy her company, to share their experience and to shorten the journey. I thought how lovely it would be to hear more young people say this – without blush or embarrassment. I wondered if he knew that he was giving witness to something very powerful– the ability to stand back from the “done thing” and to realise drink didn’t have to be part of his life.
I chatted to the two of them for a while. I never mentioned drink or abstinence but met them on a journey of memory along corridors of a place that was home to me for six years and has been part of my story for nearly two-thirds of my life! I was glad to meet them and it makes me wonder ….
What about another look at “The Pioneers” – especially for our younger travelling companions?