Earlier today I used a version of this story at Sunday Masses. I spoke about a priest visiting and old man and them talking but the message was based on this story and I think it’s a good one for the day that’s in it when Jesus speaks of himself as “Vine” and us as “branches” and the need to stay connected …..
The Lonely Ember
A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services regularly, stopped going.
After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit him. It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire.
Guessing the reason for his pastor’s visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a big chair near the fireplace and waited. The pastor made himself comfortable but said nothing. In the grave silence, he contemplated the play of the flames around the burning logs.
After some minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent. The host watched all this in quiet fascination.
As the one lone ember’s flame diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon it was cold and lifeless.
Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting.
Just before the pastor was ready to leave, he picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.
As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said, “Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I shall be back in church next Sunday.”
Today is Good Shepherd Sunday. We reflect on Vocation within the church. Vocation at its widest, includes every man, woman and child of us, who tries daily to respond to God’s Call to be a better person and a sign of His presence. We focus too on vocations to priesthood, permanent diaconate and religious life. It is from here, these few lines come. I wondered yesterday what I had to say that might not have been said before and realised that I’ve nothing new to bring to the people, other than a belief that priesthood is still a call worth hearing, considering and responding to. Deeply aware of my own limitations but also still happy that I made the decision to travel this road, I wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. The idea of writing a letter came to my mind – a letter to the people but then, I thought maybe a letter to myself might be worth looking at ….. this is how it worked out!
Dear Vincent,
Thought I’d drop you a line. It’s Vocations Sunday and I know you’re wondering how to rise to it again, to encourage and pray for vocations when, for more than thirty years, you’ve done the same and nobody seems to have responded. I know that at times, you find yourself going through phases of self-doubt about the effectiveness of your own vocation. I’m sure you’re wondering who I am!
I’m that boy in you who knew priests to be decent people who seemed to bring happiness to your family home and who showed themselves to be friends. I’m that teenager in you who, in St Nathy’s College, came to admire the priests on the staff – for the bits and pieces they did “beyond the call of duty” to encourage students to do their best, not just in the classroom but on the sports field too. I’m the son in you who heard your mother’s prayers to Fr Casey a priest who died back in 1939, when your mother was scarcely a teenager herself, but remembered forever his kindness to her family, after her father’s death when she was just seven years old. I’m the Spirit in you that made you think there was a place for you in priesthood and encouraged you to go ahead – to give it a try.
I am the family and neighbours around you who wished you well that September and who cared more about where you were going than your leaving cert results. I am a grandmother of a school friend who lit candles for you every time she passed the church throughout your years in Maynooth. I am the friends you met – men and women – who made you feel special and loved. I am the dream within you that accompanied you through the years and assured you that the road chosen, like the one to Emmaus, was an open road but a safe one too where you’d not walk alone.
I am the twenty-four year old in you who knelt before Bishop Flynn in June 1987, put your hands in his and promised to do your best and who lay mouth-under, on the floor of Gurteen Church, as the saints were called down on top of you in a litany of prayer – “Bless this chosen man”, “Bless this chosen man, make him holy”. “Bless this chosen man, make him holy and consecrate him for his sacred duties” …. I am that young priest who was welcomed to his first parish by decent people who helped him believe he’d done the right thing with his life, though he had much to learn.
I am the fifty-five year old in you. Standing this weekend in a parish, surrounded by a community at prayer. People looking to the priest in you to offer a word, to be a friend and above all to break open the Scriptures and to nourish through Eucharist. I am the priest in you who wants you to push yourself and to have courage and self-conviction. I am the ongoing dreamer in you who believes the Church can find her voice a-fresh and that the world can be a better place and will be a better place when it opens itself to see again the presence of God and the real difference a lived faith can make.
I am your vocation Vincent, encouraging you to take all that’s good from your past, to accept your mistakes and to reach out again and again, to hope and believe again and again, that the story, the dream of the boy may find words in the mouth of the man and say, even if you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said it …. “this is a good life”.
Was saddened today to hear the news of the death of Big Tom McBride. May he rest in peace. A long-time friend of my family – especially to my brother Gerard – it’s as if he was always there. He had a unique singing voice and the sound, especially the sound associated with his Mainliners and Travellers band, had a tone of its own. That, at least, will live on and I’m sure will get many spins in days, weeks, months and years to come.
Back in 2001 we had a festival down on the shores of Lough Gara. We called it “Flock to The Lough” and at a planning meeting I suggested we might ask Big Tom to come and perform there. A suggestion taken on board and a phonecall later, it was in train. He absolutely packed the place that night and the sound bouncing off the surface of Lough Gara is a lasting memory. It paved the way for a few more “Flock to The Loughs” but his willingness to come and play on the shores of a lake in a packed marquee, gave courage when it was needed. A happy memory!
His songs, typically country in many ways, told stories and some of them, in keeping with the genre, sad stories. He told them, through song, in a convincing way. The last time I heard him sing live was ironically in Templeronan Cemetery on the day my father, Bill, was buried. Tom and Rose were there. My brothers had a desire to fill in the grave and while it was being filled, we said the Rosary and the filling was still taking place when we finished. I looked over to Big Tom and asked if he’d sing something. He did. He sang “Where we’ll never grow old” and it’s a moment – as I think of it now – on the opposite shore of the same Lough Gara, that I will never forget.
The last time I saw him was in late January on the day his beloved Rose was laid to rest in the grounds of their local church. The big man was at a big loss that day and looked so sad and it wasn’t difficult to see him following her. I’ve seen that many times in life. It’s a sign of something running very deep and something very real. It is love. I had truly hoped to meet him again and the chance of that happening this month was very real. Alas, that’s not the case anymore.
“Don’t forget to give my love to Rose” was one of his songs. Made famous by Johnny Cash, I’ve no doubt for Tom it had a special meaning and his “Rose” was very real to him. May they both rest in the togetherness they lived – in peace and in love in God’s presence.
In the coming days, I’m sure many people will have and discuss their own memories of Big Tom and that’s the way we cope with loss. Jesus knew that when he asked his “disciples” on the Emmaus Road, “What matters are you discussing as you walk along?” He gave them the chance to talk, remember and come to a deeper truth. For Tom’s family, fans and countless friends, may that conversation and journey take place as well.
Since Easter most of our readings at Mass focus on the mission of the disciples as they find their voice and begin to speak about the risen Jesus. Though they had failed to grasp all he had said to them during their time together, the truth has dawned and they feel duty bound to share their faith with others. To some it is a welcome sound and, for others, a voice too far that needs to be silenced. So we find the apostles being imprisoned, punished and warned not to speak in “the name of Jesus.” Despite all this, they preach with enthusiasm, urgency and daily, we are told, people are added to their number.
Where did they get this courage? The answer, it seems, comes from the many occasions Jesus revealed himself to them after his resurrection. His greeting of choice was “Peace be with you” and, on almost all occasions, he seems to have shared food with them. Often they came to recognise him in the very sharing of food “the breaking of bread.”
Is there something being said to us at this time? Something about where we find our courage to be people of faith and voices of hope? Something about where we find courage and how we respond to what we have found? Is there a message here about the need in our time to spend time with Jesus, allowing him to reveal himself to us?
Maybe that’s what we need to do, more and more, these Easter days – to allow time and space that Jesus may reveal himself and encourage us.
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