Daily Lenten Thought March 16th

Daily Lenten Thought March 16th

If it’s okay, I’m going to revisit and old post from a few years ago.  It was a reflection on priesthood.  At present we have no student for the priesthood in our diocese and have had one ordination, for the diocese, in thirteen years.  On the eve of St Patrick’s Day, I’m wondering will the “voice (and ears) of the Irish” hear the “VOICE OF GOD” and respond to His call.  Anyway, what follows hopefully says a bit around my own thoughts. Thanks for your patience.  Stats tell me over 100 people a day are visiting this site, fewer than that, looking at the reflections so I’m not sure who’s reading or why but I am thankful to you ….  God Bless!  V


I was ordained in St. Patrick’s Church, Gurteen.  From time to time I look at a video taken that day.  Such changes have taken place.  Many of them irreversible.  People close to me who attended that day have died.  Others for one reason or another weren’t there and it can never happen again.  Certainly there are people I wish were there.  (My parents have both died since I wrote this piece, R.I.P.)  The video reminds me of how happy my mother was that day.  Like me, with me and for me, she looked forward to it.  My father said, with deep emotion welled in his throat “this is my happiest day ever”.  I’m glad I gave him that.  Certainly he always did his best for me.  My brothers too, and family were with me and still are.  Don’t always have the contact I’d like with all my nephews and nieces who were just babes in arms that day. Some of them weren’t born the day I was ordained but are a very central part of my life.

The video brought back faces of priests in our parish at the time – all dead now –  Canon Paddy Towey, Fr James Flannery, Fr Charlie Doherty.  Other men who were part of my life and regular visitors to the garage and kitchen at home, where coming to get the car serviced was often more social than mechanical!  Dudley Filan, Martin McManus, Bishop Fergus, Michael Giblin, Gerry Horan (knew him first as a solicitor and then as a classmate in Maynooth – ordained Easter Sunday 2007), Francy Cawley, Dermot Nash – they, and so many more, gone to their Eternal Reward.

Gone too my Godfather and uncle John who said he was there for my baptism, Communion and Confirmation – seeing to it they were all properly done “You’ll agree”, he said “he’s now properly ordained too”.  Mai Callaghan – my Godmother.  Alfie and Mel Gallagher.  My cousin Kathleen “Feather” Gallagher, Gerry Dwyer and so many others.  May they rest in peace.

Gone too, my hair!  Added weight and years make me wonder who’s the man in the video??  Gone too, perhaps saddest of all – some of the joy that was around priesthood.  It’s not that I’m not joyful but things have changed so much.  Paddy Towey spoke of there being more rejoicing in Heaven over ninety-nine ordinations than one and hoped there would be others.  John Geelan was ordained a year later – my Cloonloo neighbour – Oliver McDonagh, another Cloonloo man was ordained the week before me. (Sadly Oliver died in January 2010 after a brave battle with illness, may he rest in peace.)  Gerry Horan – the retired solicitor and widower from Mullaghroe was ordained a few months before us both.  Four men from within a stone’s throw of each other ordained within months and none since.  There was rejoicing in Gurteen, Cloonloo, Mullaghroe and Moygara – not ninety-nine admittedly but four.  Why did the rejoicing stop?  Paddy Towey’s prayer – what happened it?

I became a priest because I thought it was the best I could do with my life and somewhere, though there was never a dazzling light or booming voice, I felt God wanted me to do this.  There were priests I admired who seemed to be good and decent people, well rounded, balanced, focused and at ease.  To be like them seemed a not unattractive life choice.  People like Charlie Doherty in Cloonloo, Tommy Johnston, Greg Hannan, Pat Lynch, Martin Jennings, Jimmy Colleran, Jim Finan – all in St. Nathy’s – Michael Giblin, Dudley Filan, John Walsh, John Doherty, Frank Gallagher and many more spoke to me of priesthood without ever saying a word.  There was much to look up to and much to imitate.  Didn’t Jesus say “do this in memory of me”?

Have I encouraged anyone to become a priest?  Seemingly not.  What am I missing?  I really don’t know.  Priesthood isn’t that attractive to most people now.  There has been so much change through the years and of course priesthood became tragically and undeniably entangled in scandal and betrayal. Yet there were all the while, mighty priests – good men, decent men, rounded men.  Good priests.

Have I been a good priest?  I’ve tried.  Not without failure or uncertainty and I know I’ve hurt people along the way.  Never intentionally.  I can honestly say that.  I remember once visiting a dying priest who asked me for my blessing and I felt so guilty blessing him since, even in illness, he was a stronger and better priest than I and yet I blessed him. It was my calling to offer a blessing to a dying man.  Even if worthiness wasn’t uppermost in my mind, God, I believe, would have wanted me to make the Sign of Calvary and offer the fullness of Paradise to one nearing his end.

I’ve tried to be a good priest – tried with varying degrees of success and failure but I’m glad to be a priest, even if I don’t always fully understand what it’s all about.  Like I wish my mother and father hadn’t aged (and died) – like I wish I could talk to them both today, like I wish many of the absent friends weren’t absent with the passing of time, I wish I had done some things better, left others undone, prayed more, learned more, being more – but that’s all wishful thinking, reality is reality.  There are many things in life – in priesthood – over which we are powerless.  There are things we’d love to be different but their moment for being different may well have passed.   Acceptance of reality, even flawed and frail reality may be as good as it can get.

I have met many people through priesthood and the vast majority of them enriched my life so much.  Thankfully many of them became and remain my friends.  I’ve had the chance to laugh with people and cry with people.  The chance to celebrate and sympathise.  The opportunity to teach and to learn.  To heal and be healed.  To forgive and be forgiven.

For now, almost twenty-nine years on, I’m glad to be a priest.  I’d love if my gladness were evident enough to encourage someone to make Paddy Towey’s prayer – his wish and the need of our time – come through!

Memories are made of this …..

Memories are made of this …..

I was at a Birthday Party for my sister-in-law yesterday and happy to meet my family and friends there.  Always good.  I left a bit (probably a lot) earlier than the others as I was due to go to a Priests’ Retreat with priests of Elphin Diocese. That too, thankfully, is going well.  Decent men to be with and refreshing to share something of the road with them – from potholes to motorways!!

Yesterday was the 28th Anniversary of my ordination – by day and date and somehow that made it all very real.  I went to Templeronan Cemetery after I left my brother’s house to say a prayer at my parents’ grave.  I sat down for a while and the grave’s surround seemed inviting enough.  I decided to take a selfie!  Not something I do in a graveyard but thought I’d like to have a photo with (at least) my parents’ names in the background.

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Mary and Bill remain forever at the heart of anything I try to be – to do.  Visits to Templeronan, though irregular enough, bring something of a connection though also something of the divide.  The connection wins out everytime.  I miss them, for sure, but they continue to be central to every moment of my life.  “They lived, they loved, they laughed, they left” was a quote on a sympathy card a friend sent me after my father died.  There’s great truth in it.

I went from there to St Patrick’s Church, Gurteen to spend a bit of time there.  The church is always familiar and welcoming.  I spoke to two or three people in the church yard – they were at a distance and it was more of a wave and acknowledgement than a full blown conversation. I don’t think I knew any of them.  That frightened me a bit.  Chances are they’re neighbours that I should know.  I’m not sure they knew me either.  I don’t want a distance between me and home. When people ask me where I’m from – my immediate response is Co. Sligo – Gurteen and, if that rings a bell we bring it a step closer to Moygara and Cloonloo.  It saddens me a little that I’ve lost contact with a lot around home now.

The church though is constant – as it’s intended to be.  I walked around a little, looked at the bulletin – noticed prayers requested for John Rushe (R.I.P.) and remembered him in prayer.  The church was empty and I was happy about that.  I looked at the Altar and the aisle – now covered in carpet but tiled the day I was ordained.  I decided to lie down as I had done the day I was ordained.  “Prostrate” they call it (note the second “r” in that word!!) and I did – twenty eight years ago it was a sign of needing people’s prayer and of being willing to submit to that need.  Though there was nobody there yesterday, the quick moment reminds me again that those prayers are still needed.

 

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The original moment – June 14th 1987

Another reason I wanted to go to Gurteen yesterday was to visit the grave of Fr John Casey.  He was a priest in Gurteen back in the 30s and my mother always spoke of him – included him in every prayer we ever tried to say.  She used give us stones from his grave and nearly always there’d be one in our pockets.  I have tried to keep this tradition alive in my own life but the stocks go down!!  I replenished the stock yesterday – partly because I wanted to speak to the priests of Elphin Diocese (attending the retreat) about him and his kindness remembered throughout my mother’s life and passed on to us. I’d like to think there might be something of that kindness left following our earthly ministry too.

So that was yesterday.  Today’s a new day and we’ll make the most of it.  I think that “most” includes bringing what’s good with us from yesterday too.

Miles travelled ….

Miles travelled ….

Ordination Day - June 14th, 1987

Ordination Day – June 14th, 1987

Later today, we will gather in the Cathedral for the Funeral Mass of Bishop Tom Flynn.  May he rest in peace.

He was bishop of Achonry for close on thirty one years and I was just thinking he must have covered close on a million miles during that time.  Miles around the diocese and beyond in response to the call received to be the Shepherd – the good shepherd, who leaves not the flock unattended.

I first met him in September 1976 when I went to St Nathy’s as a First Year pupil.  He was President of the College and worked there with ten or eleven other priests and lay teachers.  It was, at that time, an all-boys school – boarding as well as “Day-Boys”.  I fitted into the latter group.  I was happy to go home in the evenings but, happy too, to spend a few hours there during the day.

Towards the end of the year (1976) it was announced that Fr Flynn was to be the new bishop of Achonry.  He replaced Bishop James Fergus who had been our bishop from 1947. He had retired the previous St Patrick’s Day but continued as bishop until a successor was appointed.  It seemed strange to know a man who was becoming a bishop and, though I can’t say I knew him well, I liked him as a President.

The students of the college pooled resources and contributed towards his Bishop’s Ring.  I recall it being presented to him and feeling happy that we had a part to play in something that would journey with him.  The ring had a purple stone and, in later years, bishops opted for a more plain style of ring but someone pointed out to me that Tom wore the other ring at many of our Ordinations.  It was probably his way of acknowledging the gift we had been part of.

I recall him coming out home to buy a car from my father.  It was a Peugeot 304 (SDI 245 – the registration as far as I remember) and he remained a customer and (more importantly) friend of my family from that day on.  I was grateful to him for that too ….

The parishes of the diocese were invited to submit names of people who might like to attend the Ordination.  I put my name in a box in the porch of Cloonloo Church.  I recall Fr Charlie Doherty sending me to collect it from the porch at the end of Mass so that the “raffle” could take place.  I was serving Mass that Sunday.  My name was drawn.  I was shocked and happy – never too lucky in raffles – but have reason to believe now, I might have been the only name in the box!!  That said, I was happy to be there and sat in the Cathedral on February 20th, 1977 as Fr Flynn became our bishop.

In 1981, I approached him about becoming a priest and he welcomed me and assured me of his support.  In fairness, I never felt far removed from that support.  Six years later, he came to Gurteen to ordain me and, to quote my father that day, it was “my happiest day ever”.  There seemed something homely about it all.  It was at home of course but, maybe more than that, we all seemed to know one another.

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There were a lot of ordinations. I did a rough count yesterday and think Bishop Tom ordained thirty-one priests for the diocese during his time (others too – but thirty-one for the diocese) so you could say, on average, one a year.  During the years some have died or moved to other places in life but today I think twenty-two of the priests working in Achonry Diocese have been ordained by Bishop Tom.  The work of his hands – the “laying on” of his hands are, and please God, will be visible for some time to come.

He put a lot into it – certainly when able to do so.  He had a special awareness around Confirmation in a parish and used to visit the schools in preparation for the day.  Later that day, he’d meet the teachers after school, quite often for a meal and that night he’d meet the parents of the Confirmation classes in a local hall or venue.  It was a full day’s visitation and he seemed to take it in his stride.  Sometimes tiredness took its toll (on the priests more than Tom) and there’s a lovely story of Tom being in the middle of his “talk” when the Parish Priest who had obviously fallen asleep behind him, stretched and said “I think we’ll put on the kettle” – much to the amusement of the gathered parents and, in fairness, to Bishop Tom.

One of the things I liked about him was his availability to people, not least in times of tragedy.  How many homes he must have visited over the years where there was a sudden or tragic death – where parents grieved and communities wondered.  He seemed to be there with people at such times.

He had his share of ill-health but seemed to bounce back with an energy that was obvious.  Place mattered to him and I think Ballaghaderreen and its surrounds were central players in his story.  I’m sure he had dreams for the place that were not fully realised but efforts towards their completion were certainly part of his mission.  “Developing The West Together” was one of his dreams and, for all of us, that dream continues.  We live in hope and we hope with faith!

I had visited Bishop Tom a few times in the Nursing Home and he was always very welcoming – more welcoming than his condition would have allowed.  He certainly grew frail but his voice remained clear.  “Ah how are you at all?”  That was his usual greeting – often followed by a deafening silence!!  In fairness, he wasn’t always the easiest to sustain conversation with.  It would start with such enthusiasm but then wilt a little!  I think anyone who knows him – knew him – can identify with that.

Doubtless, like all of us, had he the chance to re-visit moments and approach them in a different way, it’s a chance he’d welcome.  Overall though, in the million miles travelled, he journeyed with good purpose and sought to make a difference.  He was happy to step back from it and entrust the work to Bishop Brendan and others.

“How are things in Kilmovee?” he asked me the last time I met him.  I shared a few bits with him but I knew the question was more an acknowledgement of who and where I was than a desire to update his files under “Kilmovee”!!  I’m glad I met him though – I know many of our priests visited him and I’m sure, though most likely he didn’t say it, he was happy to know he remained in our thoughts.  I asked him if there was anything he wanted “not a thing”, he replied.  That seemed to be the way with him – I’m sure he knew the days were shortening and his needs, from a material vantage point were few – it’s likely he was circling the wagons around his Spirit – I feel confident his prayers were heard.

“Hope House” was something he was very proud of.  I don’t know if he had any part in its naming but maybe it’s with that word “hope” I draw these lines to a close.

I hope he knows he made a difference.  I hope he rests in peace.  And, with him I think, we pray that our Church will never fail to have hope.

May he rest in peace.  Amen.

Where is the good word?

Where is the good word?

Earlier today, whilst travelling to Castlebar for a wedding rehearsal I turned on the radio.  It was mid interview and a man (whose name I didn’t get) was talking about his grandmother who had given birth to a baby outside wedlock.  She had been sent to a home where she had her baby and stayed for two years to pay back, through work, the help she had received.  It was, of course, a sad story, made sadder by the fact that it had not been revealed by the grandmother during her lifetime.  My heart goes out to all involved.

He said she was sent to the home by a priest who was “helping her” and then with a sarcastic chuckle, he repeated the line “helping her” as if this could not have been further from the priest’s mind, intention or desire.  I wondered if maybe he was, in fact, trying to help her.  Is there room for doubt?  Is there, even a slim chance, that the man thought he was doing the right thing  by her in the circumstances?

In fairness, the presenter tried to broaden the canvas a little and said the problem was wider than the Catholic Church.  She said surely it was the woman’s family or families of women like her, who found themselves in this situation, that often turned their backs on them. He was determined in his response – the fault lay with the Catholic Church who controlled everything in society.  When she said the problem was also linked with other religions, there was no turning on his part.  The Catholic Church was to blame for it all.  She didn’t pursue her line of questioning and other contributors to the panel were quick to row in their support for the blame resting solely with the Catholic Church and its control.

I was saddened to think we have come to this place where we are blamed for everything.  My thoughts went again to the priest and the summary dismissal of any chance that he had in fact tried to help in what may have been the only way open to him.

All the while I drove to be with a couple preparing for their wedding day. I knew that from there I would go to the funeral of a relation and a priest and join others in prayer and support.  Yesterday I stood with another couple as they exchanged vows. Last week, with another.  A few days before that I sat with a young woman in her home, left empty by her father’s death and felt her pain as she sought to come to an acceptance that he was gone from her, and gone forever.  I spoke with a young man who was saddened by life’s journey and wanted no more from me than an open ear. I recalled visits to hospitals and homes to spend some time with people coping with illness.  I remembered the recent celebration of First Holy Communion in the parish and the joy I felt in seeing the happiness on children’s faces as they reached a milestone in life.

I thought of daily Mass in the parish and the, sometimes small but always devoted, attendance of those able to join with me around the Altar and thought of Sundays with a larger congregation, choir, people involved in various ministries and people passing by who might just join us because they happened to pass at that moment when we gather to worship on the Sunday in every week.

Twenty-seven years ago, this very day, I was ordained a priest in my home parish.  My parents were there, my family and many friends from home, from the seminary – people supporting me in the moment, wishing me well and telling me they’d pray for me.  I asked them to – I needed them to – and they said they would.  I’ve never doubted but they kept their word.  My parents are now gone from me but I still feel their support and presence.  Did they think I was becoming a priest so that I could control people, make life difficult for them or ever subject them to situations that they’d regret for the rest of their lives or into a new generation?  Did they think I’d treat any girl who came to my door, with a story of uncertainty, to a cruel fate that her grandchild would recount on radio forty years later?  Is that why I became a priest?

The answer to all these questions is, I believe, no!  I can say in honesty that I have never set out to hurt anyone in my life as a priest.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t done so.  I can nonetheless say I never intentionally sought to make life difficult for anyone.  I have, as far as I know, always tried to be helpful.  I cannot recall a time when I chose to ignore a genuine cry or whisper for help.

Do I think I am different from other priests? Of course we are all individuals and have our own ways but I don’t believe I am that different.  I think most priests operate out of a desire to help rather than hinder, encourage rather than discourage, praise rather than condemn, share the load rather than burden – in short, try to do their best.

At this evening’s Mass I praised, in all sincerity, the three children who were serving at the Altar. I told them, in front of the congregation, that I was proud of them.  Then I put the question – the wondering – if in thirty or forty years time they’re sitting in company and people are giving out about the church, about priests about our mistakes, will they just sit there, order another drink, sit quietly by or will they say, “That’s not my experience”? Will one of them say ” I remember a priest saying at Mass that he was proud of me”?

I’d love to think they would but sometimes the silence of people in the now of our confusion makes me sad.  Surely there are very many people out there who have had good experiences of the work of their local priests?  Surely there are very many who have felt the nourishment of their Faith and the strength of sacraments celebrated?  Where is their voice?  Where are their words?

Where is “the good word”?

Archbishop Eamon Martin

Archbishop Eamon Martin

Earlier today I travelled to Armagh for the Episcopal Ordination of my classmate Eamon Martin.  Eamon, a priest of Derry Diocese has been appointed as Coadjutor Archbishop of Armagh which means he will become Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of All Ireland when Cardinal Brady chooses to retire.  For now, Eamon will work alongside Cardinal Seán in tending to the needs of the diocese and beyond.  There’s no doubt it’s quite an undertaking but equally no doubt that he is well fit for and suited to the task.  Needless to say, we all wish him well and will remember him in prayer as he begins this new chapter of his ministry.

St Patrick's Cathedral, Armagh

St Patrick’s Cathedral, Armagh

Eamon at beginning of ceremony

Eamon at beginning of ceremony

Eamon with two classmates and Derry Priests, Colm O'Doherty and Michael McCaughey

Eamon with two classmates and Derry Priests, Colm O’Doherty and Michael McCaughey

The Litany of The Saints

The Litany of The Saints

Led in prayer by Cardinal Brady, Archbishop Charles Brown (Papal Nuncio) and Bishop Gerard Clifford (Auxiliary Bishop Emeritus of Armagh)

Led in prayer by Cardinal Brady, Archbishop Charles Brown (Papal Nuncio) and Bishop Gerard Clifford (Auxiliary Bishop Emeritus of Armagh)

The laying on of hands

The laying on of hands

Anointing

Anointing

Receiving the insignia of being a bishop - mitre, crozier and ring

Receiving the insignia of being a bishop – mitre, crozier and ring

Receiving the Mitre

Receiving the Mitre

Taking possession of The Chair - Bishop's place in the Cathedral of his diocese

Taking possession of The Chair – Bishop’s place in the Cathedral of his diocese

Blessing the congregation

Blessing the congregation

Travelling to Armagh today took me back to our days in Maynooth when, each Summer, we’d travel the length and breadth of Ireland to attend the ordinations of our friends and, especially June 1987 and those summer months that followed, when we tried as best we could to attend one another’s ordinations as classmates.  Sadly that is very much a memory now since it’s many years since I attended an ordination in Ireland – the last priest’s ordination I was at is just over two years ago when Padraig Hawkins was ordained in Norwich Cathedral for the Diocese of East Anglia.  I think it likely the last before that was Tomás Surlis’ ordination in 2003.  Thankfully we will have a man ordained for our diocese this year and we’re all looking forward to that.

Two classmates; Pat Fogarty and Michael Meade

Two classmates; Pat Fogarty and Michael Meade

It was lovely to see many of our classmates in Armagh today.  I know we were all proud of Eamon and it was great to see his mother there – though I don’t know her or indeed his family, I’ve no doubt it was a proud and uplifting moment for them.

Two classmates, Pat Fogarty and Michael Meade

Michael Sheehan and Eamon following the Ordination Ceremony

"There was music there" in the Derry air!!

“There was music there” in the Derry air!!

Eamon’s Address to the congregation

My brothers and sisters in Christ, distinguished guests, friends, thank you for your presence here this afternoon and for the encouragement of your prayers. I know that many of you have travelled long distances to be here.  I really appreciate it.  Agus dóibh siúd ar fud na tíre a thug am le cúpla mí anuas le scríobh chugam, nó a chuir scairt orm, ag gealladh domsa paidreacha a rá ar mo shon, tugaim buíochas ó mo chroí amach. Cuimhneoidh me oraibh i mo chuid paidreacha féin, agus bígí cinnte go ndéanfaidh me mo dhícheall sa ghairm seo ó Dhia i mo shaol. 

I feel a whole mixture of emotions about this new calling in my life – excitement, nervousness, a sense of my unworthiness and inadequacy – but your prayers, good wishes and generosity have lifted me up. Since the announcement of my appointment in January, I’ve been simply overwhelmed by so many messages of encouragement, assuring me that this is a time of hope and new life for our Church, and telling  me not to be afraid, but to trust in God always. 

Cardinal Brady, Archbishop Brown, Bishop Clifford, I really appreciate the support and welcome that you have given me and indeed that of all the bishops in Ireland and beyond. To my mother, and all my family – I want to say ‘thank you’ from the bottom of my heart. You have always been there for me; God have mercy on my father – I pray that he also, with all those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith, is sharing this celebration in the happiness of heaven. To you, my good friends, your love and support mean so much to me. I really appreciate your kindness and the sacrifices you have made for me; I hope and pray we shall always be there for each other. To the people of Derry, and the priests and retired bishops of my native diocese, it has been a privilege to serve you and work alongside you; I shall miss you and you will always be in my thoughts and prayers – please keep me in yours. And to you, the people, priests and religious of the Archdiocese of Armagh – thank you for your very warm welcome; I really look forward to getting to know you better. I hope and pray that I can be a caring shepherd for you. 

What an uplifting liturgy this has been! I am grateful to everyone who has been part of it and to all those who have helped in any way with the planning and organisation for today. And what more fitting occasion than Good Shepherd Sunday, Vocations Sunday, for me to begin my new ministry!  Cardinal Brady, your homily was thoughtful and inspiring. I’m sure today brings back memories of your ordination as Coadjutor Archbishop of Armagh 18 years ago, and of course for you too Bishop Clifford as you remember your episcopal ordination on this very day in 1991. Thank you both for your commitment and dedication to the flock of Christ here in Armagh. I look forward very much to serving alongside you. 

Not long ago my aunts gave me a figurine of the Good Shepherd carrying a sheep on his shoulders. When I look at it, I remember that when we, like sheep, go astray, the Lord, in his mercy, searches us out, lifts us up, and lovingly carries us back. I pray that the Good Shepherd will always guide me along the right path and walk beside me in troubled times.  Agus mé ag teacht chuig an áit iontach seo, Ard Mhacha, croí Críostaí na hÉireann, guím mar a ghuigh Naomh Pádraig: 

Críost liom,

Críost romham,

Críost i mo dhiaidh,

Críost istigh ionam,

Críost fúm,

Críost os mo chionn,

Críost ar mo láimh dheas,

Críost ar mo láimh chlé. 

I mentioned back in January that we live in a time of change, challenge and opportunity, and I suggested that this is a good time, as the psalms say, to ‘sing a new song to the Lord’. A lot of people commented to be afterwards about that beautiful verse of scripture, so I chose it for my episcopal motto: Cantate Domino canticum novum! 

Sing a new song to The Lord! It suggests ‘renewal’. It calls on us to seek fresh ways of presenting the message of the Gospel. But how can this be done? How can we sing the song of the Lord in these strange times? How can we make it heard above the cacophony of voices competing for attention in the public square?  Only if others can see that our believing in Christ makes a real difference to our lives. St Augustine said ‘the one who has learned to love a new life has learned to sing a new song’! For me, that new song is a song about love and peace, a song of forgiveness and reconciliation. It sings out Good News about the sacredness of all human life and the wonder of God’s creation; it tells of the dignity of every person and it challenges us to reach out to the poorest and most vulnerable in the world;  It’s a song about family and solidarity, about charity, truth and justice. 

Of course there are some who will not want to listen. There are others too who have been so hurt and betrayed in the past, that understandably they find themselves unable to trust our message. That is why we must continue, as Pope Benedict XVI exhorted us in his letter, ‘to reflect on the wounds inflicted on Christ’s body’, and persevere in our efforts to bind those wounds and heal them. 

Pope Francis has spoken recently about the need to ‘go out of ourselves’, beyond our usual comfort zones to the ‘edges of our existence’. It is there, he says, that we meet the poor, the forgotten, the disillusioned. And there we must sing our new song in a way which will speak to the reality of their daily lives, with  all their hurts and burdens and troubles. The only way we can do that is by singing about God’s mercy and love for each one of us personally. That is what the new song is about – it is a song of love, that God unconditionally loves each one of us, despite our sinfulness and imperfections, and that the Lamb of God, who suffered and died to take away the sins of the world, has mercy on us. 

The singing of the new song is not simply a task for bishops, priests and religious. It belongs to all God’s people. We are all called to holiness and to mission.  During this Year of Faith, I pray for a renewed outpouring of the Holy Spirit in Ireland, enkindling the fire of God’s love in the hearts of all the faithful!  My brothers and sisters, we need you to share in the renewal and new evangelisation that is at the very heart of the Church’s mission. Sing the new song of the Lord with your hearts and your lives, by witnessing to Christ in your families and workplaces, and in the new mission fields of media, culture, business and politics. 

Blessed John Henry Newman said that God has created each of us to do him some definite service, some task or mission that he is not entrusting to anyone else. On this Vocations Sunday, I pray that each of us can hear more clearly the voice of the Lord in our lives, and understand more fully what God is calling us to. I pray also that the Holy Spirit may re-awaken in Ireland that wonderful spirit of self-giving which inspired so many young men and women in the past to give themselves totally to the service of the Gospel as priests and in consecrated life. 

Of course we must all be sure that it is the Lord’s song that we are singing, and not simply our own composition with a catchy rhythm and some clever lyrics. And we must sing in harmony with one another as people, priests, religious and bishops. Our new song must never dilute the strength of Christ’s message but must capture faithfully the timeless truth of the Gospel. And that can only happen if we live in communion with Christ and with one another, and if we gather regularly to be nourished by God’s word and the sacraments. 

In Ireland today each one of us is being called to personal conversion, to open our heart to friendship with Jesus who is the Way, the Truth and the Life! If we listen carefully to his voice speaking gently in the depth of our being, then we can find our personal vocation and learn to understand where our Good Shepherd is leading us. We become like a new person with a new song, and, because that new song is about the Good News of Jesus Christ, it is impossible to keep it to ourselves! As the old Baptist hymn puts it: ‘Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth… How can I keep from singing!’ 

My dear brothers and sisters, every Holy Thursday at the Chrism Mass, the bishop asks his flock to pray for him. In those same words, please pray for me that, ‘despite my own weakness and sinfulness, I may be faithful to the apostolic office entrusted to me today, and every day of my life remaining, by the grace of God, I may be made a living and more perfect image of Christ, the Priest, the Good Shepherd, the Teacher and the Servant of all. May the Lord keep all of us in his charity and lead us, shepherds and flock, to eternal life’. 

‘Sé an Tiarna m’aoire, ní bheidh aon nith de dhith orm. Amen.

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