by Vincent | Mar 6, 2018 | Reflections, Lent 2018
Though your message was unspoken
I met her as I walked into the church in Castlefin. There was Adoration taking place and I thought I might call in for a while, to say a prayer and focus a few thoughts for this evening. “Are you going in to hear confessions?” I said no but that I could if she wanted. I said there’d be a Penance Service on Thursday evening and that I might hear confessions this evening. Again, I told her I could do it then if she wanted but she said “No, there’s plenty time.” Maybe I should just have said “yes”. What else was I doing? A few minutes wouldn’t have made that much difference. Yeah, chances are, I should have said “yes”.
After spending a while in the Adoration Chapel – pleasantly surprised to see so many there – I wandered around the church for a while. I’d noticed the statue of Our Lady earlier in the day and thought it a meaningful presence in the church. I hadn’t gone close to it though so was happy to be able to spend a bit of time there. Something very gentle about it. I like the two water containers – Old and New Testaments maybe and Our Lady bridging the two – the link. Beside the statue two candles burned. I wonder was it the same person who lit both? Chances are it was. What was the intention behind them? The one prayed to and the intention prayed for and the person doing the lighting maybe also the bridge between the two.
I thought of Knock again and the silent witness given by Mary. That witness was born of her ability to say “yes” and I’m back again at the door of the church and meeting a woman who asked “Are you going in to hear confessions? Still think I should have said “yes”.
LENTEN THOUGHT: Go with your gut feeling when asked to do something – even if that feeling is pushing you in a direction you hadn’t planned. Most likely it’s the right thing to do.
by Vincent | Feb 27, 2018 | Reflections, Lent 2018
One hundred years ago ….
On Monday night, I was in the Adoration Chapel in Kilmovee for a short while and I said Night Prayer. When finished, I looked through some memorial cards and other pieces that were tucked into the back of my breviary. One of the pieces of paper I found was this:
Holy Cross Cemetery, Brooklyn NY
It’s a map of Holy Cross Cemetery in Brooklyn New York. On the reverse side are some details around care of graves and reference to Region 19 and Plot Numbers 131 and 132. The paper is well faded and written on the side of it “burial 8/1/1918”. It refers to the burial place of a Grand-Uncle of mine called Michael Healey who died two days earlier on the Feastday of The Epiphany. He fell victim to the Great Flu.
My aunt in Richmond told me about this grave in July 2009. I was in New York at the time and in the company of some friends from Kiltimagh who kindly took me to the Cemetery and, following my aunt’s directions, we were able to go to St Joseph’s section of the Cemetery, find Region 19 and plots 131/132. The inscription on the stone reads “In Memory Of My Beloved Brother Michael Healey Died Jan. 6. 1918.”
My mother’s mother, Margaret Healey (Healy), worked in New York at that time. Her brother became ill, died and she saw to it that he was laid to rest. I’m told that it would have been both meaningful and costly for her to place the headstone there at that time. I’m assuming she made great personal sacrifice to do this. Sometime later she returned to Ireland and, again I am assuming, did so to tell her parents about Michael and to reassure them she had seen to it that he was laid to rest with dignity. It was her intention to return to New York and she had purchased a return ticket. On her way home on the boat, my understanding is, she met and befriended a girl from Cloonloo who was my grandfather’s sister who, in turn, introduced her friend to her brother. They married and she never returned to New York.
She kept the piece of paper though and when her son (my uncle John) went to America he brought the piece of paper and the memory behind it with him. I feel certain he too visited Holy Cross Cemetery and, in time, he shared this story with his wife – Mary Margaret – who, in turn shared it – and the paper behind it, with me.
On February 26th, 2018, I found myself looking at this piece of faded paper – I honestly don’t remember getting it but my aunt must have given it to me at some stage. It takes me back a century to a man I never met and brought him into my Monday Night Prayers.
Lenten Thought: It’s good to do the right thing by your people and essential that the stories that matter be shared. We are telling a very sacred Family Story in this Season of Lent. It must not be allowed fall on closed ears. It must be told.
by Vincent | Feb 25, 2018 | Reflections, Lent 2018
Urlaur Lake – reflecting the glory of a “transfigured” sky
There’s no denying the different view we get from a mountain top. What seems well known to us, takes on a totally new look when viewed from the vantage point.
Even when flying out of Knock, within minutes the ground beneath looks like a foreign land and we can be hard pressed to recognise even our own house or place. So while the view is good, we might easily lose contact with reality.
Is there something like that going on for the disciples as they encounter Jesus on the heights of Tabor? What was familiar to them takes on a new look and leaves them dazed and puzzled. “It’s wonderful for us to be here” and, no doubt, so it was.
The Lord, aware of that but also aware of the need to be rooted in reality gently encourages them to leave the view, return to ground level and make a difference there.
Lenten thought – on this Second Sunday of Lent how can we best reflect the view we’ve had from and on the mountain top of Faith?
by Vincent | Feb 22, 2018 | Reflections, Lent 2018
Urlaur Abbey (Parish of Kilmovee)
Urlaur Abbey lies in ruin. Its walls have crumbled and roof has long since collapsed but its floor – foundation – remains solid. Many people come here to spend a bit of time at the lake, to say a prayer in the cemetery and to imagine (pray) the sacred past of this place. On the 4th August every year, the place fills and the familiar sounds of Eucharist echo from the walls “do this in memory of me.”
At the Pattern Mass some years ago, a Dominican priest spoke of the positioning of the Abbey. He said the water’s edge was often a chosen spot for the building of a monastery. Is there a link somewhere with Jesus standing on the shore? Is there a connection with his calling people to come from the water, spend time with him and be nourished by him? Only then could he send them on mission.
The priest that day spoke too about cemeteries developing around these monastic settlements and that somewhere there’s an image of and a connection with the journey from the waters of baptism to the final resting place. The structure and the sacraments of the church seeking to be the bridge between the two.
Today we celebrate the Feast of The Chair of St Peter “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church” … Peter’s “rock”, no more than Urlaur Abbey’s walls, crumbled but his foundation was solid. We are still walking on the floor he laid.
A Lenten thought! Gratitude for an ongoing faith, a present church – even if walls and structures aren’t as solid as they might have been or wished for. There’s a rock beneath.
