The woman at the well

The woman at the well

This has been a strange day and, sadly there are more like it to follow.

Yesterday, our diocese, like many other dioceses in Ireland and throughout the world, took the decision to suspend the celebration of Public Masses.  This decision, not easily taken, was to help in universal efforts to stem the spread of COVID-19.  During the week, our Taoiseach called for no further indoor gatherings of crowds in excess of one hundred people.  To support this call, the decision was taken to suspend public celebrations of Mass where it can happen that crowds in excess of that number gather.  In most parishes, daily Mass would not attract congregations reaching that number but, when reflected upon, the decision taken included the suspension of daily Masses as well to facilitate people not gathering in number and to help in the avoidance of situations where the virus could unwittingly be shared and to help in reducing the number of those who might need medical attention, given the immense pressure already placed upon medical personnel.

So this strange day began with the realisation I would not be celebrating Masses this evening with the people of Urlaur and Glann, nor tomorrow with the people of Kilmovee and Kilkelly.  Though I will celebrate Mass, it will just be one and on my own, without congregation.  This seems so alien to me since I believe Mass is the great gatherer of people and I have, throughout my priesthood, relished those gatherings and been enriched and blessed through them.  We are designed to interact with other humans so to be alone flies in the face of my understanding.

Yet, of course, our belief is that we are not alone.  Angels, Saints, people of our past who have gone before us and the friendships and connections we have with people will stand with every priest these days as he reads God’s word, prays for forgiveness and reaches upward as he hold host and chalice in hand.  As he reaches upwards, God reaches down and gathers the prayers offered and pours out blessings on those in need.  So I have to get my head around that and believe that when I say “The Lord be with you”, there is a thunderous response “and with your Spirit”.

Often wonderful things happen when two people seek to encounter something meaningful and the gospel we read this weekend is one such example.  The woman at the well.  We are all familiar with her and the banter exchanged between she and Jesus.  “Give me a drink of water”, he asks.  “You have no bucket”, she replies “and the well is deep”.  She was telling him he hadn’t a chance and she relished it!  He knew the well was deep but not the one they sat beside.  The well was her soul and her spirit and he knew he had to reach long and dig deep to get to the heart of her, and bring to the surface the goodness in her.

He did!  She found that goodness and went to call others to meet “a man who told me everything I ever did” – and yet, knowing everything she ever did, he sat comfortably with her and brought her to a better place.

In these days of COVID-19 when we are asked to be socially distant, there is no denying the wisdom in that since, like our decision to suspend public Masses, it allows room and lessens the risk of transmission of illness but we must long for closeness again and never lose sight of the conversation between Jesus and the woman at the well.  You could not imagine them shouting at each other with six feet between them.  This was a close and personal conversation and ultimately led to a place of joy and gathering where even more people were brought into the moment.  They came, listened and were convinced to a point where they said to the woman: “We no longer believe just because of what you told us – we have seen and heard him ourselves and know that he is the Messiah”.

Let us long for and do all in our power to hasten the day when people can sit side by side again and where strangers need have no fear of one another or striking up a conversation.

I look forward to the congregations again, the choirs, the music and the faces.  I hope too, that I’ll have the eyes to spot the face in the crowd that might need to sit by the well and chat.

God bless you all. God protect us all.

Best wishes to you all

Best wishes to you all

St Joseph’s Church, Urlaur

As we continue through the Christmas days and in the lead-up to New Year’s Day, may I wish you one and all every blessing, good health and happiness as we journey on.

Thank you for keeping in touch and for your support and kindness.  Nothing, I’d hope, taken for granted.  I’m glad to have had the chance to post a few bits and pieces here again throughout the year.  This is the tenth year of “sherlockshome” and I think we’re doing okay. Sometimes I’d like to do a bit more and other times, I think I do too much so it’s about balance.  Will continue to work at achieving this and, who knows how that will go!

I enjoyed Christmas in the parish this year and was so happy to see large congregations at our four Christmas Masses in Urlaur, Glann, Kilmovee and Kilkelly.  There’s more than sentiment at work on days like these.  There is something about connection and connecting and I am always pleased to witness that and be, in some way, part of it.

For many years now I have sung “The Little Drummer Boy” after Holy Commnion at Christmas Masses.  It’s one of my favourite carols as it speaks of doing what comes natural and bringing the gift you might not even know you have.  In the Drummer Boy’s case, the very drum he carried was to be his best gift that brought to the lips of the Baby Jesus, the wonderful response of a smile.

In Kilmovee Church this year, Kevin Kenneally, a Leaving Cert student from the parish, joined me for the Carol.  He played the guitar and it was lovely to be joined by him.  We had a bit of run through on Monday and I recorded it.  The “live” version was better I think but thought I might include it here.

Shay’s Sunday

Shay’s Sunday

On the one road

This tractor belongs to a man called Shay.  It could not be further from his mind that I am writing about him now.  As I walked down the path to the church this morning for Sunday Mass, Shay drove the path ahead of me as he has done, I’d imagine for decades.  This is his transport – the tractor that serves his daily farming needs is also his travelling companion as he goes to worship his God. say his prayers and meet his neighbours.  He’s truly a lovely person and a good man.  He’s not alone.

All over Ireland today – indeed all over the world – Shays left their homes to celebrate Sunday as it deserves to be celebrated in the making holy of the Sabbath Day.  He lifted my heart today as he has done on many occasions because he reminds me it’s still important and, indeed, essential, to take that bit of time out to say a word of thanks, to be nourished by Eucharist and to be faithful.

Shay reminds me too that my life matters and that I owe it to him to be as happy as I can be in ministry and continue to be there to share God’s word with him, his neighbours and our parish community.

Statistics reassure us that faith and worship are in decline but Shay reminds us that Sunday is the day you set aside, dress up and travel, irrespective of the mode of transport, to bend the knee, bless the face, say a prayer and be “parish”.  Yes, I’m saddened that many didn’t hear this call today but glad to have seen this man and many more like him.

We must not forget!  We must not be ungrateful.  We must MUST carry on ….. on the one road!

What’s another year?  Another year!

What’s another year? Another year!

In June 1981, Fr Stephen O’Mahony was ordained a priest for the diocese of Achonry. Five years earlier, his brother Dan, was also ordained. A year before that, in the Summer of 1975, Padraig Costello was ordained for our diocese and five years before that, Dominic Towey was ordained for the Diocese of Motherwell. Four men from the parish ordained priests in eleven years.

Thirty five years have passed since Stephen’s Ordination. Is “times have changed” the only response we have? Did God decide he needed no more priests from our parish? Did we? The answer, I believe, is found in neither question. The truth is God needs priests. Our parishes and diocese needs priests and religious.

What was different back then? Did people talk more about vocations? Pray more? Think more? Respond more? The same goodness is there today as at any time in our past. The same generosity is there too.

Thirty five years is a life time ….. Is there anyone out there willing to be “out there” in ministry?

_______________________________________________

The lines above are on the front of this week’s Kilmovee Parish Bulletin.  Wanted to share them here too and maybe stir a thought in our hearts around Vocations to the Priesthood and Religious Life.

Recently a mother in the parish told me she saw her son walking down the hallway in their home. I’d say he’s about five or six years old.  He had good clothes on him and when she asked what he was doing, he turned to her and said “Shh, I’m going to Mass”!! Intrigued, she followed a few minutes later and found him in another room, alongside his sister and they were “playing Mass”. She said he was making his own of one of the hymns I sing at Mass:) I was pleased to hear this because in some way it meant the children had taken the Mass home with them.  To think it formed part of their play time was, in its own way, very consoling.  It’s good to imagine that it has a place in their imagination, alongside Cowboys and Indians, Doctors and Nurses, Cops and Robbers, Hide and Seek and a myriad of other games.  Perhaps the memory of that “mass” will linger and sow a seed, whose crop we might treasure.

I remember playing “priest” as a child.  Indeed my brother felt the need to share this with those gathered for my ordination.  He said that when he and my other brother would go home from school, they’d change into overalls and help in the garage but that more often than not I’d be seen in a black jacket with a shirt turned back to front!!  I blushed at the memory but there’s a truth in it.  Priests were an important part of my life and, maybe in the game, the thoughts of becoming one found some growth.  Maybe that’s why the mother’s story sparked something of gratitude in me.

When I was ordained in 1987, another man from home was ordained a few months before me.  He had been a solicitor, married and widowed – a grandfather and a Maynooth Classmate called Gerry Horan.  Oliver McDonagh, a neighbour too, was ordained the Sunday before me for the diocese of Elphin (sadly Gerry and  Oliver have both died, may they rest in peace).  The year after a third neighbour, John Geelan, was ordained and just a few years before that, John Finn from Gurteen.  Five men from the area in about seven years.  Like Kilmovee, none since.

A lifetime has passed you could say and nobody has seen a neighbour enter the seminary, study for a number of years and come home to be ordained.  I think this is part of the reality of our present situation.  People go to college, train to be teachers, doctors or nurses, others join the guards or take courses in farm management.  Still others further their skills as carpenters, builders, plumbers and so much more.  They talk to their friends about their courses, the life in college, the hopes they have and, in that talk, they spark the thoughts in others “maybe I could do that too” ….

Not so priesthood or religious life.  There are so few, and the few there are are so far scattered throughout the country, that the potential for their vocations impacting on others is lessened or eroded. People don’t hear of or know people who are exploring God’s Call.

What can we do?  I firmly believe we should pray and encourage.  I believe if in a Leaving Cert Class a student expressed thoughts around priesthood or religious life that his or her classmates should support the student and say “yes, why not give it a go”.  I think likewise parents and parishioners should encourage thoughts around vocation and not, through negativity or fear, quench the sparks of a flame that might be there.

I believe we need to be positive and when we hear negative comment around church, priesthood etc, if that comment does not reflect our own experience we should say so. “That may be your experience but it’s not mine”.  Silence in the face of negative comment suggests support for it.  I think that’s a pity.  A young man told me in recent years that he was at the dentist and that the dentist told him how much he disliked the church, priests etc.  I consider this young man a friend.  I knew him as a boy and know him as a man.  I said to him “I hope you told him you have a good friend who is a priest”.  He looked and me and said, “I did not! He had a drill in my mouth at the time!”  Drills aside, it seems to me that much harm is done through negative comment and much harm too, through not at least offering an alternative view.

Priesthood is a good life.  We have the privilege of being with people on good and difficult days.  Last week I celebrated a wedding and just before Mass this evening received a text from the bride saying how much they had enjoyed the day.  I was so happy to hear from her. During the week, I was called to the sudden death of a young man in our parish and allowed share in the grief of his family and community.  I do not take this lightly.  It matters that we matter and have a place to play in the day to day living of people’s lives.

I believe there is a place for priests in our world.  I don’t know what the future will bring to priesthood.  Undoubtedly it will bring its own changes and shape but, for now, we can only try to live the priesthood that is in our midst.  For now, that is the only priesthood we can seek to encourage.

I think it’s worth doing ……

Better to light a candle …..

Better to light a candle …..

20160202_103641-1Earlier today, at 10am Mass in Kilmovee, we blessed candles for Candlemus Day.  There were a few extra people there, to mark the feast of The Lord’s Presentation in the Temple.  I was happy to see them.  A few brought candles to be added to our church’s supply, placed before the Altar for blessing.  It’s a nice tradition, whereby people bring candles to be blessed – some for use in the church and others to be brought home and used there throughout the year.

Just before going down to Mass, i picked up a small candle holder in the house and put it in my pocket.  Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I thought I’d make use of it but wasn’t sure when or how.  I left it on the middle of the Altar and when we blessed the candles, I took one and lit it, then I placed it in the little holder on the middle of the Altar.  There, needless to say, it stayed.  (No “moving candles” in Kilmovee, thank God:) )

After Holy Communion I turned off all the lights in the church and quenched the candles – except one – the one blessed and lighted earlier in the Mass.  I sat down and heard myself singing “How Great Thou Art” – it seemed so appropriate.  I said a few words around the light in this single candle, drawing us towards its flame and warmth. When other distractions are taken away, the one point of focus is the “Light – the Light of Christ” and I prayed that we might allow ourselves be caught in its invitation to come and worship and recognise, in its simplicity, something of the Divine.

Maybe that’s what happened for Simeon and Anna!

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