Earlier today I shared these words at Mass in St Agnes’ Cathedral. I’d first written them a few years ago for our parish magazine and updated them recently for an article in The Messenger Magazine. After Mass a number of people told me they liked the lines so thought I’d include them here again. They’re intended as a reflection on the years since Ordination – thirty years ago now – in 1987.
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?
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 seemingly unaware that poems should have a rhyming pattern!
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 knew there were questions but I thought answers were easily found. Things had an order about them – a sort of pattern like the rhyming poem.
The rhyme continued. Most people went to Mass. Churches were relatively full most of the time. Prayers were said and it seemed so important to keep the Parish together. I enjoyed those early days.
“The Lord be with you”, I would say
“And also with you” as one they’d pray
Great to see you; and so it was
Together then we’d stand and pause
Sins confessed, Sacred Story shared
His Body and Blood for all, nothing spared.
First baptism, first wedding – such joyful occasions, shared easily with people oozing joy 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 through the gentleness of the Sacrament. First Communion Days and Confirmation in the parish all combined to enrich 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, loss of Faith, decline in practice, indifference, hostility, scandals, doubts, anger, negative press, decline of vocations …. and still, through it all, 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?”
The rhyme was in decline but the poem was still needed. I looked for signs, listened for voices, sought direction – wondered! Somehow, thanks be to God, the heart of the poem remained intact, enriched even by some of life’s questions and held sacred in the lives of many good people who cradled the faith, caressed the verse and, in time, helped me realise:
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.
Some time ago Fr Owen McEneaney, the Prior of Lough Derg, asked if I’d consider doing a few days as member of the Pastoral Team. Bishop Liam MacDaid had said something similar to me last year when I was involved with the priests of Clogher on their Diocesan Retreat. It’s not something I’d have considered really but when Fr Owen contacted me, I thought it might be a chance to do something different for a few days. I agreed. It seemed a while off but like all these things, the time passed and the days arrived. I’m here! A blue fleece and a little name-tag suggest I am a member of the “Pastoral Team”.
It’s many years since I’ve been on Lough Derg for the “Three Day Pilgrimage”, though I have been here a good number of times on the “One Day Pilgrimage” – a much kinder chance to explore something of this Sacred Space. Kinder suits me!!
The pilgrimage is quite demanding – fasting from midnight the day before you come to the island and, on arrival, removing shoes and socks – not to be seen again until leaving the island some three days later! Food is not an option either, apart from the Lough Derg Meal of dry toast and black tea or coffee made available to the pilgrims once a day.
My situation then is different and I have wrestled with guilt as I wear my shoes, have access to food and, as you can see from this blog entry, internet. I’ve wrestled but have been able to reconcile these truths with my low threshold of endurance!! Messing aside, it’s something that I will think about doing again. If not this year, maybe 2025!!
On the boat yesterday I met a couple from Westmeath and a young teacher from Armagh. The couple turned out to be neighbours of a cousin whose name I mentioned in passing. All three were determined to make the most of these days. Later two diocesan groupings arrived – one from Ferns and another from Meath. I met two Filipino girls, one a nurse and the other a student. I met two neighbours from home – one who was here just ten days ago but came back because her friend wanted to go and had nobody to accompany her. I was told a man left the Island yesterday, having faithfully completed the pilgrimage at the age of ninety and that others come regularly to the Island during the season, including one who comes weekly. An amazing variety of pilgrims, some coming here with friends and others, like the young Armagh teacher, making the decision and travelling alone. She, like all the others, becomes a pilgrim and shares the Island with others over these days.
Last night I gave the Introductory Talk to the Pilgrims who had come on the Island yesterday. They had been here for a number of hours but my role was to share a few thoughts as they began their “VIGIL” at 10.30 last night, a vigil that would see them watch and pray through the night, attend Mass at 6.30am this morning, Confessions at 8.30am and continue in prayer through the day until their Vigil concludes after Night Prayer tonight. At 10.30 another group begins its Vigil and so goes the cycle of these days.
One of the vantage points I’m experiencing these days is to witness the commitment of the staff here. Amazing! Such a variety of ages and talents – from young students to people who have given their lives to working on the Holy Island. Talented singers, musicians and people so at home with themselves and the Liturgy that accompanies these days. Truly wonderful to see.
On my way here I stopped in a filling station to get a few bits. The girl who served me asked where I was going and I told her Lough Derg. Then I had to tell her I was helping out since I had bought a breakfast roll and figured she’d think “He should be fasting” … I did a few more things in the shop and when I was leaving she followed me outside and said “Will you say a prayer for me on Lough Derg?” I told her I would and I did. I will again. I’m praying for all that I know – family, friends, parishioners, those who are sick, bereaved or in any kind of need. I hope you know and believe that. I’m asking you to pray for me too.
My days here are just a “drop in the lake” but the journey continues for all those who work here and decide to come here. For now, I’m happy to be one of them!
The fleece they gave me is a bit on the tight side!! Maybe I should have a few Lough Derg meals 🙂 That said, I enjoyed the Breakfast Roll too ….
As we enter the days of the Triduum, a few reflections around letters exchanged between Jesus and some of the central characters of the Holy Week Story. Based on previous pieces posted on this blog and adapted for Radio, these are featured during Holy Week on “A Living Word”, produced by Aidan Mathews and aired during “Rising Time” on RTE Radio 1 at 6.15am.
Today’s reflection is based around the Centurion at the foot of the Cross, the one who came to recognise Jesus and accept him at the very moment of His death on the Cross. The recognition may have been at that moment but it came as the result of witnessing a remarkable journey, maybe even struggle … there is also a short response from Jesus, based around his final words “It is accomplished”
A Letter from the Centurion and Jesus’ reply
Holy Week Letters
Thanks for sharing this journey over the days. Thanks also to Aidan Mathews and RTE Radio for the opportunity to share these few reflections. I hope you enjoyed them and I hope they had some part to play in your Holy Week 2017 journey.
Today’s Old Testament reading is one of those that asks for a bit of a “selfie”. A long hard look at how we’re measuring up …
My son, do not refuse a kindness to anyone who begs it,
if it is in your power to perform it.
Do not say to your neighbour, ‘Go away! Come another time!
I will give it you tomorrow’, if you can do it now.
Do not plot harm against your neighbour
as he lives unsuspecting next door.
Do not pick a groundless quarrel with a man
who has done you no harm.
Do not emulate the man of violence,
never model your conduct on his;
for the wilful wrong-doer is abhorrent to the Lord,
who confides only in honest men.
The Lord’s curse lies on the house of the wicked,
but he blesses the home of the virtuous.
He mocks those who mock,
but accords his favour to the humble.
(Proverbs 3:27-34)
And one thing leads you to another! Listening to Glen Campbell reminds me of him and, more importantly of his illness. He is living with Alzheimers Disease and our thoughts are with him and those caring for him. Just came across this wonderful live version of the song above
(A brother reflects on a decision …… A thought around The Prodigal Son)
It’s a fair question! I don’t know. And maybe I do for there was jealousy at work.
Yes he had gone away and left us all in the lurch. Yes he had eaten into my father’s property but there was more to it than that.
I resented him, not just because he had gone away but more-so because he came back. At least when he was gone, I had my father’s ear and could impress him with all the work I did around the place.
Strange that, for though I had his ear, I knew his mind wandered to where the brother was and how he was doing. I knew his heart was broken and that part of him died that day he watched him fade into the distance
That said, he never ignored me or made me feel he didn’t love me deeply but I couldn’t get my head around the fact that he still missed “the waster” as I called him. There was no denying it though, my father was heart-broken.
There were times when I missed him too of course. I wondered what he was doing and who he was with. That’s when I let my mind wander and I wrote stories in my head that most likely weren’t real at all. I imagined him with women, getting drunk “letting the family down” and it never crossed my mind that he was sitting alone and hungry, surrounded by pigs who ate what he’d have eaten “though nobody offered him anything”.
It’s strange the way we write novels in our heads about other people and never, even for a second, try to get into their hearts or allow their hurt touch ours.
There was part of me that doubted always that he’d come back. For my father’s sake, I hoped he would, because it was heart-breaking to see him stand and look to the distance and though he never said what he was looking for, I knew exactly not the “what” but the “who” for whom he longed. My brother.
And despite that, I couldn’t share my father’s joy when someone told me “your brother is back”. The stuff about the “fatted calf” and the celebrations weren’t a concern to me but I just couldn’t bring myself to rise above my small-mindedness and see the bigger picture. We were “family again”.
When my father asked me to join the celebrations, I couldn’t do it. I’ve regretted that so often because I knew it’s what my father wanted more than anything. “All I have is yours” he told me and he meant it. He never denied me anything.
I’m haunted, haunted by that moment. I should have gone in …..
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