It seems as if I could be 70 the next time a “Blood Moon” comes around so decided not to take a chance:) I set the clock and got up to have a look. Took a few photos and decided to put them together for YouTube channel. For what they’re worth, and to prove I got up and aware that I might not be as motivated when I’m seventy …. here goes!
This was a busy week in our parish. Cemetery Masses, Kilkelly Festival, Concert and the Urlaur Pattern. It was heart-warming to see so many people gather to remember, pray, shed a tear as well as to laugh, dance a step, whistle a tune or sing a song. A very balanced mix of emotions and a fine display of talent. We can be proud of our week in the parish.
One of the moments that stays very much with me this day, is the “Naming of Religious” from the parish that was a central part of our Pattern Mass this year. The Mass, celebrated in St Joseph’s Church, saw the church filled to capacity. The “calling by name” took place after the homily and before the presentation of the gifts of bread and wine. Four people from our community, took their turn to read from a prepared list that bore the name of 108 men and women from the parish who said “Yes” to the Lord’s call to serve Him and His Church as a priest, brother or sister. Perhaps some found another path later in life but the call, nonetheless was heard and responded to in Faith, Hope and Love. There were names missed too, of course, but there was a space for them in the sacred silence of St Joseph’s and it’s not too late to add any omitted names to a future list. For the moment, the Pattern Moment, we allowed those names be heard. As each list concluded, we sounded a bell, the great call to prayer, and after a little space for silence, said together words adapted from the Ceremony of Ordination; “May God, who begun the good work in them, bring it to fulfilment”.
It was, in truth, a very moving ceremony and locating it in the Eucharistic gathering of the Urlaur Pattern seemed so fitting. The Dominicans, who came as strangers to the lakeshore at Urlaur and built stone on stone to create “God’s House” must have rejoiced to hear this moment too. From a historic place of Faith to the newest Church in our diocese, the journey continues.
It’s remarkable to think we know of at least 108 men and women from our parish who, in living memory, found in their Souls, the willingness to say “yes” to God’s call. They served His Church in a variety of ministries at home and abroad. They truly made a difference.
That call remains a true need of our day too. How can we allow it be heard more clearly?
We had a Funeral Mass in our parish yesterday (Monday). It was for Martin Frain, R.I.P. Martin had been deeply involved in practically every aspect of Parish life for many years and, since my coming to the parish, continued to be a supportive and reliable presence. Thought I might share the few thoughts from yesterday’s Mass.
______________________
In our Scripture Passages today, read by Martin’s sons and myself, we seek to allow the Lord to speak to us. In the first reading we hear that the virtuous man who dies before his time sees God. Martin was in the shadow of his 82nd Birthday. Could we then truly say he died before his time? In many ways, I feel, we can. He was a sort of landmark for us – like Urluar Abbey or The Mass Rock – there was a sense of him being there and forever. Sadly that’s not the case but the landmark he was, remains for all who knew and loved him.
In Paul’s letter to the Philippians he spoke to people he thought he’d not see again. He was anxious that they’d know how much they meant to him. He left them in no doubt. I shared these words with you in the house yesterday and said I believe they are words that a man or woman, knowing death was at hand, might want to share with those left behind. We hear them then, not just as Paul’s words to the Philippians but Martins’ words to all of you. “I want you to be happy, always happy in the Lord”. I truly believe that to be the case. Yes you are sad. Yes you will weep and feel free to since that is the gift associated with grief – that we can shed a tear. Indeed it has been said that the only way to ensure you never ever cry at a funeral is to “never love anyone”. The price we pay (and happily so) for loving another is to feel sadness when they die. Yet the words are a call to happiness and I believe that, in time, that happiness will return and you will find joy in knowing you did your best by Martin as family and friends for as long as you could. “There is no need to worry”, Paul says and likewise Martin. He speaks to all here today and says “there is no need to worry”. “If there is anything you need, ask God for it with prayer and thanksgiving”. That’s the key to it surely – that we continue to pray and show gratitude for all that has been so freely shared. “Keep doing all the things you learnt from me and have heard or seen that I’ve done” …. That’s quite a challenge for Martin has left much by way of good example.
The Gospel Passage I used is the one I chose for my father’s funeral. In many ways, Martin reminded me of my father insofar as he was a giving man. He offered what he had insofar as it was helpful and, more often than not, it made all the difference. “There is a small boy here with five barley loaves and two fish – but what is that between so many?” I often wonder was the little boy embarrassed when he heard the comment “what’s that between so many?” The “big people” knew the maths of the moment but it was the offering that mattered. Was Jesus making a point? Was he saving the boy’s blushes? Whatever the truth, he took what was so generously offered and nourished thousands.
Martin brought to life the fullness of his five loves and two fish. He gave everything he had to give and the sufficiency of his offering is clearly evident. He cherished his parents and continued to remember them in death. Is it more than coincidental that on Friday night, as Martin approached death in Castlebar, many of us gathered in this church to pray for his parents and brother? I said to those here that night “it’s likely Martin is closer to them now than any of us” but it’s the remembrance that counts. He did not forget his people. That Mass, like many others, was arranged by him so that prayers could be offered, their names mentioned and remembered. They continued to live for him. So also his wife; whom he so clearly loved. It’s almost certain he never fully got over her death. I remember a lovely poem speaking about a man whose wife had died. They used pray the Rosary together every evening. After the death, the family said he was doing well but there’s a lovey piece in the poem that says every evening after supper the man would slip away on his own into a quiet room where he’d “Hail Mary and wait ……”
Martin brought the loaves and fishes to the Gable Wall at Knock where he served so faithfully for so long. He led people in procession and prayer, directed the visitor and shared faith with the Pilgrim. It all mattered to him.
His children – what can anyone add to those two words? He adored his children and lived for them and their families. He rejoiced in their rejoicing and, I’ve no doubt, shared their sorrows. I remember noticing the calendar on the wall in your house the evening we had the Mass for his 80th. I’m sure one of you got it for him. It had all the significant dates to do with your family – birthdays, anniversaries and things that should not be forgotten. I remember thinking it a lovely gift. I noticed a new calendar there yesterday but with the same dates highlighted. It all mattered so much to him – you all mattered so much to him.
It was at “Parish” level I encountered the best of Martin. He believed in parish and believed in his place therein. Quite often I’d not be out of bed or, at best, not long out of bed when the Fiesta would be outside. Martin looking for the biscuit tin for the Priests’ Collection, or the Canopy for the Corpus Christi Procession – he knew what he was looking for and when he couldn’t find it seemed to assume I’d dumped it! Always we’d find it – more often than not where he’d left it!! The point was he cared enough to look and knew me enough to know he might need to remind me. He took the Faith seriously and was part of our Eucharistic Adoration team. Invitations in the Parish Newsletter were not meant for someone else but quite likely for him. Often he accepted. A while ago we put a piece in the bulletin looking for names of Religious from the parish. The first reply I got was from Martin, mentioning you Brother Bonaventure and a few others he knew. It was this sense of being involved that touched me deeply. He knew what was meant for the parish was meant for him. I see that as such a huge challenge in our day. My absolute wish today is that we would all see the parish as our own and all that happens in it being of significance.
Martin put up the Crib every year. He did it on the 8th December. To be honest I felt that was too soon but didn’t feel comfortable to say this to Martin. I let it go for about three years and then said it to him one day. I said I’d prefer the Crib to go up nearer to – a near as possible to – Christmas Eve. Not a bother. That’s exactly what happened. I asked him one time how long he’d been putting up the Crib. He told me he first did it when he was seventeen. For sixty five years he did this and did it well. That’s the thing I feel I admired most about him. He could have told me “it was always done this way” or “If it was good enough for Fr Cawley or Archdeacon Carty, it’s good enough for you!!” He’d have been entitled to that but no. He did it because I asked him to. He did it because he saw me as the priest in his parish and saw me as being important to him. I appreciated him for that too. He made me feel my life had an importance in his. We priests need that too. Often we’re written off or out of the script but in the sharing of the gifts, Martin shared that with me. He was happy to do it because I asked.
One of the things I loved about the Crib and indeed the Procession was that Martin involved his family in these. The Christmas Tree was dressed by Lauren, his granddaughter. I thought that was class. It was his way, I think, of handing on a tradition of involvement. Likewise his sons and, in more recent times, his son-in-law Mick, were there to assist with his tasks. Again, I saw this as his way of sharing the work and more importantly widening the call to be involved. It is my hope that the call continues to be heard by Lauren and Mick and all who are willing to help.
We cannot forget the Cemeteries of the Parish. Martin tended to these because he believed they too are landmarks. They mark the “people of our land” and insofar as they do they have a central role in the living of our community life. I think of the Heritage Nights in Cois Tine and the recitations of familiar words. “I’m stuck again”, he’d say and blame the lights but always he got back on track and found his words. There was always applause. Though they’d been heard before, they continued to be appreciated. The five loves and two fish never lose their taste. Gifts too of time and conviction were shared with the Pioneers, Community Council, Irish Catholic and countless other ways. The gifts offered, in their entirety. How pleased the Lord must have been.
There’s a challenge in all of this of course. “Do this in memory of me”, Jesus said. Likewise Martin’s life calls us to be better people. He became dizzy during Adoration in this Church. In many ways that was the beginning of the journey. When I saw him in hospital one of the sons said to him that it was a “warning” and so it was. Martin was being told that things were not as they should be. I’ve thought about that word “warning” and wonder was it also an opportunity? An opportunity to reflect on Martin’s life, to spend a bit of time with him around his sickness, to speak words, pray prayers and say thanks? I believe it was such an opportunity and that, insofar as it was, it was well used by those around him. I witnessed great tenderness, not least between Martin and his brother. Emotional tenderness that focused on one praying with the other, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, may I breathe forth my Soul in peace with thee, Amen”.
The five loaves and two fish were freely shared and willingly accepted. I believe they made a difference and that, in the course of Martin’s life, thousands have been nourished.
May he rest in peace. Amen.
__________________
Martin was well known as a composer of verses. Many of them were very witty and told something of a life well known to most of us. He often wrote verses to mark moments in the parish’s life – like the one above for 150th Anniversary of the Church in 2009. I thought I might put a few lines together, by way of verse, and included them in the Mass. Some of the references are to lines from Martin’s own work. He also was a man who knew history and often people would go to him to find out about their “roots” – that too is part of these lines ….
Unlike Seamus Heaney, Martin
could dig and hold the pen
and build and laugh and talk and pray
a support to kith and kin.
Hard work to him no stranger
likewise fun and game
and it’s clearly known to all
things will never be the same.
Where’s the bunting from last year
or the Infant for the manger
where’s the man to whom we send
the wonderings of the stranger
who thinks his grandfather’s father
came from Carralackey or Egool
and listens with a clear intent
to words both wise and cool.
“Your father’s mother’s father
was known as Jamesie Banner
he came from County Clare
and a village near Liscannor
and a first cousin of his mother’s
moved here from Lehinch
she married into Ballinvoher
to James John Patrick Lynch.”
Who can tell us tales of yesterday
of when our Church was built
and how the nave before us
like His head on the Cross is tilt?
Who’ll tend the graves of Naomh Mobhi
and arrange the yearly Mass
who’ll remind us of Corpus Christi
to make sure “The Host” will pass?
Countless jobs done so well
by one who knew his mind
and knew his Faith and loved his God
who remained forever kind.
In him there surely was no guile
his good intent is certain
there’s sadness real among us
as we face that final curtain
but he faithfully remembered
his people through his life,
parents, brother and all his dead
and the love that was his wife
so, maybe in a verse
and surely in a prayer
we’ll recall his life quite often
forever thankful he’s been here.
We’ll remember the man left to mind the children
and the Maguires and MacDwyers
the rice cakes and nice cakes
as his verse our faith inspires
to gather in this place of prayer
Fine Gael and Fianna Fail men - “no party at all men”
to pray with all who shared his way
for his Eternal Rest. Amen.
This is the Sanctuary in St Joseph’s Church, Urlaur (Parish of Kilmovee). St Joseph’s is the newest church in Achonry Diocese – blessed and opened, by Bishop James Fergus, in 1969. There’s a great story to go with this church so might share a bit of it here …
In the early 1960’s there was no church in Urlaur. There had been an Abbey that ceased being used in the late 1800’s. People from Urlaur went to Mass in nearby Kilmovee, Glann, Kilkelly and some (I’m told) even went to the neighbouring parish of Tooreen!! There was a priest in the parish at the time who didn’t altogether like the idea of people leaving the parish for Mass so he started to celebrate Mass in the local primary school. He also, in fairness, was deeply aware of the role of the Abbey in Urlaur and felt the Faith of the people would be enriched through the presence of a church in the locality. This idea caught on and, from it, people looked at the possibility of building a new church for the Urlaur area of our parish. This was a massive undertaking since the population was relatively small but the project commenced.
Locals got behind it with full enthusiasm and many fundraising ideas were put to work. These included door to door collections locally and in neigbouring towns. People worked very hard to make the dream of a church come through.
Move the story about three thousand miles. Many years earlier a young fifteen year old girl left Urlaur and went to the United States. Later she entered an order of enclosed Sisters in New Jersey. She received word from home that a new church was going to be built. She was happy about this and decided to share the news with, wait for it the “New York Times”. Her letter wound its way to the desk of Nat Goldstein. As the name suggests he was not a native of East Mayo!! He was a Jew but was nonetheless impressed by the letter received and asked two journalists to go and visit the sister.
They reported back to him the outcome of their visit and said it was quite an experience. They spoke through a little meshed opening to Sister Mary of The Blessed Trinity (formerly Margaret Cafferkey from Aughadeffin) who shared with them her lifelong dream that there be a church in which her neighbours and family could pray. Towards the end of the interview, Sister Mary told the reporters she had been quite nervous about meeting them since she had been fifty-five years in the convent and they were her first visitors in fifty years!!
Goldstein impressed by the report and still conscious of Margaret’s letter and, in particular, one line which said her people wanted to build a “place of worship” took up the cause. Shortly afterwards, at a function marking his forty years service to the New York Times, he was prsented with $1000 and sent half of it to Sr Mary for the work on St Joseph’s.
He didn’t stop at that. He wrote to friends and presumably used the New York Times asking people to send him $5.00 to “help make and Irish Fairytale come true”! As a result more than $10,000.00 was collected (this was about £6000 of the £16,000.00 it took to build the church). All from one letter from a sister in an enclosed order. (Ironically some feel that enclosed orders don’t influence life beyond their walls ……. )
Goldstein later said that he liked the line about the “place of worship” and felt the world would be a better place if it had more “places of worship”. He said her letter was “full of faith and deserved more than a little notice”. He together with his wife attended the opening of Urlaur Church on Ascension Thursday, May 15th 1969. So also, the Commissioner of the New York Police Department (Howard Leary), his wife and two other visitors from New York – Irving Taubkin of the New York Times and his wife). The “place of worship” in a small part of East Mayo captured the imaginations of many.
Today that church is open. Its invitation to worship is as real and intense as it was on that Ascension Day in 1969. Its call is as sure. Chances are there’s a church open near enough to wherever you are right now … a quick visit might be no bad thing ….
For the third year, we gathered on Easter Sunday Morning for a Dawn Mass in the grounds of Urlaur Abbey. There was a fine gathering of people from the parish and beyond – some from Ballymote, Curry, Charlestown, Carracastle, Knock, Kiltimagh, Ballaghaderreen, Monasteraden and, I’m sure, other places. It was lovely to see so many come together to welcome “hope” on Easter Sunday.
I shared a few words there, as I had done at the Vigil Mass and, again at the later Masses of Easter Day.
I mentioned that I was moving a bookcase in my bedroom earlier in the week and that a bank card fell on the ground. I felt it wasn’t mine but I stooped to pick it up and noticed it was a card of my mother’s. It expired in 2008, a year before she herself entered Eternity. I said I looked at the card for a while and it was the standard issue – embossed lettering giving her name, the expiry date and other details, the logo of the bank and the little security tag. In effect, a piece of plastic.
It was when I turned it over its full story unfolded. On the back I saw my mother’s signature. The writing was shaky but the name and signature hers. I found myself sitting back on my bed and crying. I cried, not flowing or endless tears, but those tears that well up in the eyes, burn a little and surprise you by their arrival. Real tears nonetheless that both shocked and reassured me. Shocked insofar as they were not expected and reassured to the degree I realised yet again, the strong bond that exists within family and among loved ones. It is a bond that transcends time and bursts open graves. There was a presence in that signature.
What struck me most was remembering my mother say to me many times; “Nobody will ever love you as much as I do”. I have two brothers and I have no doubt her love for them was as strong but I suspect she may have said this to me more often since they have families of their own. It struck me, as I looked at the bank card, that she was saying to me I’d never be alone and that her love would always be there. (So too, and I know this for certain, my father’s, R.I.P.)
I wondered though how seriously I took her words to heart when she spoke them. Did I really allow them in? Did I fully believe what she was saying? Though, I’m happy enough I believed it, chances are I didn’t fully understand.
That’s the link with the Easter Story in my mind this weekend. The women go to the tomb on Easter Sunday morning, not to meet the Risen Christ but to anoint a dead body. Time had denied them the opportunity on the Friday evening in the shadow of the approaching Sabbath so he was buried without the customary anointing. They felt badly about this and wanted to set things right. So, it was to visit the dead they went that morning, not to witness the central teaching of our Faith, that “he is risen”. The Angels told the women that he had, in fact, risen and added “as he said he would”. That’s the line that hit me very much this weekend – “as he said he would”.
They heard him say it but seemingly it hadn’t sunken into their hearts. Yes, they believed but, no more than my mother’s words, they hadn’t fully grasped that he absolutely meant what he was saying.
Jesus used words well. He would have been quite at home in the world of “Twitter” and “SMS” where a few characters tell a story that far outweighs their numbers. It’s not that Jesus was mean with his words or careful how much he said. He said what needed to be said and, more than that, he meant it.
Maybe we need to hear his words again – perhaps some of our favourite phrases from the Scripture – and allow them sink in, be real, understood and believed.
I told the people on the shore in Urlaur (and at other Easter Masses last weekend) that I’ve told them many times I am proud of them, happy to be with them, grateful to them and I wondered did they really believe me or think these were just words falling from an open mouth? I mentioned my classmate, Archbishop Eamon Martin, whom I’d seen on TV during the week. He was speaking at a presentation of awards to young people in the Archdiocese of Armagh and said that the young people were not our “future” but were, more vitally, our “present”. I had not thought of it in that way before. I said that I had tried to encourage young people over the years to be involved in parish life since they are the new generation and the builders of the church of tomorrow but, listening to Eamon, I had it wrong – they are our “now” – it is today we need them, depend on them, hope in them and call them to life in the Faith. Again, I did not want these to be words they hear but don’t believe. I’d like to think, I’m saying what I believe, despite my own confusions and uncertainties from time to time.
“Nobody will ever love you as much as I do” …. a plastic card, a shaky signature but a totally TRUE statement.
“Lord, increase our faith …..”
