Ballina Novena
On Monday, February 17th, I preached at the opening session of the Padre Pio Novena in Ballina. The theme of the Novena this week is around “Coping with crosses in life” and my topic was linked with finding courage in face of the cross. Earlier that evening, a lady called me who said she could not attend the Novena but wondered if I could share what I was going to say. I told her I had some notes written but that if I could put them together, I’d place a few words on the blog today. Hence this post. I hope some of it might be helpful.
Many thanks to Frs Aidan, Tom and all at the Cathedral who made me feel so welcome last night.
In the very early years of being a priest, I attended the funeral of a young boy who had died. I really had no clue as to what I could or should say in the circumstances and my heart went out to his family and to all who were so grief-stricken. I stood in the Funeral Home, gazing into the open coffin and at his young face and words would not come. I put my hand on the edge of the coffin, looked at his family and all gathered. “These are the hardest prayers you will ever have to pray”, I said. The boy’s father reached over, left his hand on top of mine and said; “We will pray them”. I don’t know where he got the courage to say that but, in his saying those words, I too found courage and the praying began – and continues.
A priest I knew wrote a lovely reflection one time about the Religious Examiner visiting a school. It was in the “Penny Catechism” days when questions and answers were the order of the day. Each question had a set answer, an answer to be learned off, remembered and I suppose live by. The reflection centred on the priest turning to a young lad in a classroom, much to the disappointment of his teacher who knew there were other pupils in her class who had memorised the answers and had a bit more interest. This boy’s passion was sport and he didn’t always focus on the finer points of religion. The priest travelled with a dog in his car and the young boy spotted the dog and made some reference to it as the priest began to question him. The priest closed his book, looked at the boy and asked a question that was not part of the script: “Do you think Jesus had a dog?” The answer was sincere: “No Father, because if he had it would have been with him on Calvary.” The reflection concludes saying the young boy went home proudly pocketing a “ten shilling note”. Rightly so! The loyalty of the dog would have seen him at Jesus’ side, even on Calvary.
Nobody should have to face Calvary alone.
I’d like to spend a bit of time with some of the Stations of The Cross that are around the walls of this cathedral and, indeed all our churches. They take different approaches to telling the story of Jesus’ journey with the cross. Maybe we might find in them, moments of courage shared and opportunities to help others find courage.
A Galway Diocesan Priest, Fr Leo Morahan, now gone to his Eternal Reward, was a wonderful speaker. I remember hearing him being interviewed on radio one night. He spoke about an elderly lady who used to visit the local church, beside the school he attended, where she would pray the Stations Of The Cross. He said the children would sneak in to watch her as she prayed because she never had any book with her. She would walk to each station and stand for a while. Sometimes she would say nothing but occasionally she would, for example, at the Seventh Station she might say “You’re down again”. It was very personal to her. He said the line she used that impacted most on him was at the Twelfth Station, Jesus dies on the cross. He said she would stand there for what seemed like ages and then shaking her head she would say: “Upon my Soul, if the Gallaghers were there, it wouldn’t have happened you!” There was something so real about this, a feeling that an injustice had been done and that, given the chance, her family would have prevented it.
Nobody should have to face Calvary alone.
One of the most difficult encounters recalled in the Stations is that of Jesus meeting his mother. No words are exchanged but there is a reassurance offered. Often, those carrying crosses in life, feel deeply for their loved ones and want to shield them from what is happening. It is, of course a two-way journey, and the loved ones want also to shield and protect. Often we wonder what we can or should say but this station maybe says to us, don’t worry about what you say. Maybe silence is enough for it is rooted in being present to each other. Perhaps courage is found in that silence too.
One of my favourite characters from the Stations is Veronica. She wiped the face of Jesus with a towel. It was the right and sensible thing to do. She did not overthink it or discuss it with a committee. She saw someone who needed help and she helped. What a difference she must have made to him at that moment, when surrounded by hostility and confusion, a kindness is done. I am reminded of a little girl whose father, also a very young man, was seriously ill. He was using a walker to get around the house to help keep falls at bay. His little girl, who had received a Kitchen Set for Christmas transformed it into a walker and walked around the house by his side, in her own “walking frame”. Did she think she was Veronica? Undoubtedly no, but in my book she was. She showed kindness in a way she felt she could and offered support through that kindness. Veronicas are still there, offering courage and support in times of uncertainty.
Sadly that man died some months later but his wife spoke to me of moments that stood out for her during her husband’s uninvited illness. She told me of being in Galway one day for a hospital appointment. Parking was difficult, the weather was bad and it was a low moment. Eventually she found a parking space and as she tried to help her husband from the car to a wheelchair, she was finding it very difficult – they both were. A young man was walking down the street. He was on his mobile phone and she heard him say “I’ll call you back”. He walked over to her, helped her husband from the car and waited til they were on their way. He interrupted his call to do the right thing. We spoke of him at the Funeral Mass and wondered would he ever know how much that meant? I speak of him here again tonight and wonder the same but, have no doubt, it made all the difference. That man was, in so many ways, Simon of Cyrene, helping another carry a cross. There is a reassurance here that there are people out there willing to help us.
Contrast him with another man, a man I don’t know but about whom I heard a woman speak one time. I don’t know her either. It was an interview and she was saying that she had a short time before the interview been shopping. She had her two sons with her, one a baby in arms and the other who lives with Autism. As they left the shop, her older child held on to the door of the shop and would not let go. He began to scream and shout and to lash out at her. All the while she tried to hold him, her shopping and her second child, The older child kicked her, screamed and shouted. Her shopping spilled out on the ground and as she bent, trying to gather it, a man approached her and said; “You need to put manners on that child”. She said she lay on the path and cried.
A question! Which side of the pavement would you wish to be on? The side with the young man who ended a phonecall to offer help or with the man who judged a situation he clearly did not understand and offered useless advice rather than a helping hand? I think we all know the answer to that.
The women of the Eighth Station remind me of people attending daily Mass. Truth told, quite often the majority of those attending is women. Each day they pray for intentions, remember people who are sick and respond “Lord graciously hear us” to prayers of intercession. I believe Jesus notices these people as he noticed the women of the Eighth Station and he asks, as he did on the road to Emmaus, “What matters are you discussing as you walk along?” He cares deeply about our cares and his interest is genuine. I believe this too is a source of courage for all journeying with the cross. Don’t be afraid to tell Jesus what you are discussing, the fears you have, the disappointments you feel and maybe the anger too. He truly is listening. “What matters are you discussing as you walk along?”
Anger and frustration are regularly linked with the cross and understandably so. Jesus shared some of this in his cry “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The question was real. He found his answer in that man we now call “the good thief” who turned to him for mercy. Surely if this man could recognise Jesus, at the lowest point of his life, as one who could save him, then Jesus’ ministry was successful, and he truly was not abandoned. This was his Father’s answer. It says to Jesus that it is not the exterior frame that matters but the inner soul, the inner person where truth and spirit are found. Maybe there is a consolation and source of courage for us in this, particularly as we see bodies in decline due to illness or pressure that there is a Soul and Spirit within that have their story to tell as well – a story of endurance and faith.
Nobody should have to face Calvary alone.
The Gospel Passage we read this evening, speaks of Jesus walking towards his disciples across stormy waters and saying to them “Courage, it is I. Do not be afraid” (Matthew 14:27) That remains his message and his commitment to us all.
Nobody need face the Cross alone. “The Gallaghers are here”.
