I was sad to hear of the death of Bishop Eddie Daly, R.I.P. He’s one of those people that always seems to have been there in my lifetime. How many times we’ve seen the image of him, hunched with white waving handkerchief in hand, seeking to lead people to safety in the midst of a blood-stained Derry Sunday on January 30th 1972. I was nine years old then but remember that image and moment. Pure horror and a man seeking to make a difference in the midst of it all.
Some ten years later I recall trying to annoy one of my Derry classmates who (rightly) saw Eddie as hero. I asked would he like to see my impersonation of him and when he said yes, I took a hankie from my pocket and waved it in the air. He was not impressed! It’s a powerful moment, cherished in the memory of all who saw it and, for many, a shared memory that is all too real. My “impersonation” was at a very superficial level and served little by way of justice and depth, to the respect I had and have for Bishop Daly.
Scaffolding in place around works at St Agnes’ Cathedral, Rockville Centre
I was reminded today of Seamus Heaney’s poem “Scaffolding” and it strikes me that Bishop Daly and many others like him have sought to protect and maintain a sense of place and church in our midst. For years, as priest and bishop, he lived where he loved, served his own people and knew their ways. He was inspirational. He became “scaffolding” allowing people maintain and indeed overcome the “walls” of Derry that they might become places of meeting rather than division, peace instead of conflict and hope instead of despair. Maurice Harron’s famous sculpture on the outskirts of the city shows two men reaching out to one another from the walls of their tradition. The hands almost touch and I believe that Eddie Daly in the scaffolding he provided allowed for that touch to finally become real.
It took her death to bring her name to our lips and her story to our hearts. A young woman from Derry who, as a teenager, went on what she thought was a holiday only to find out it was a pilgrimage. Initially reluctant, she found herself drawn to the experience and later decided to become a Religious Sister. Her work took her to Ecuador and last week’s earthquake there, took her to Paradise. She was 33 years old. May she rest in peace.
There have been many images posted on line and words written in newspapers about Sr Clare during the week. She died, we are told, trying to rescue children. It’s clear she lived among them too. Many of the images are of her playing her guitar, singing songs, smiling and always joyful. In many of the pictures, there’s a hand holding the words or music for her, helping her in her task. Video clips show her walking with a true bounce in her steps and joy in her journey. It seems certain she was doing what she wanted to do – doing what God wanted her to do.
The Gospel this weekend centres on the words of Jesus as his death approached, also at age 33, and he says to his friends “I will not be with you much longer” but goes on to tell them that they should love one another as he has loved them. “By this love”, he told them “all will know that you are my disciples”.
Sr Clare’s discipleship is certain as is her witness to love. This “love” takes us beyond ourselves and out of our comfort zone to be better people. It may well be less dramatic than Ecuador, less traumatic than an earthquake but where love is lived, it makes a difference. We see it in the care of a relative who is sick. We find it in the enthusiasm of the classroom, the attentiveness of ambulance crew, the gentleness of a parent cradling a child. Wherever we see it, we notice it and are better people because of it.
How best can we witness this “love” in the coming days? #LiveLife (Donal Walsh’s motto) comes to mind.
Was just taking a look through some old posts a while ago and thought I might give this one a re-run!! Not laziness but I sort of like the message …
Two young people were sitting at the same table as me. They were having a conversation and, though I didn’t set out to eavesdrop, I couldn’t really help but hear them. They were two students in Maynooth college and they were discussing college life. I had a clearer view of the lad as he was sitting across the table from me. I’d describe him as “student” – a sort of laid-back look, cool, longish hair, unshaved, casually dressed (but aware of looking the part nonetheless) and well able to talk. She seemed very nice, pleasant and happy to be chatting with him. They seemed to know each other but, I thought, not too well. Maybe he wanted to get to know her better, I can’t be sure. I’d not blame him if he did! They talked about their courses, the train-fare and how they were choosing to stay at home as it saved them a bit of money but they found the daily commute tiring. They seemed to enjoy their life in Maynooth and, as they talked, my mind wandered back to my own days there and I could identify with their enjoyment.
They talked about socialising and the things they liked to do. It was obvious they mixed study and pleasure with an ease you’d admire. “Where do you go for a drink?” she asked. “I’m a Pioneer”, he replied. I wondered. I felt he’d add, “Ah no, I’m only joking” but he didn’t. He said he saved a lot by not drinking. I knew he was serious. She took it in her stride and said what she liked to drink but there was a real respect there.
I’d not have added “pioneer” to his list of attributes but I was so happy to hear him say it. It seemed so natural and so right. It didn’t interfere with his ability to enjoy her company, to share their experience and to shorten the journey. I thought how lovely it would be to hear more young people say this – without blush or embarrassment. I wondered if he knew that he was giving witness to something very powerful– the ability to stand back from the “done thing” and to realise drink didn’t have to be part of his life.
I chatted to the two of them for a while. I never mentioned drink or abstinence but met them on a journey of memory along corridors of a place that was home to me for six years and has been part of my story for nearly two-thirds of my life! I was glad to meet them and it makes me wonder ….
What about another look at “The Pioneers” – especially for our younger travelling companions?
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