She had mentioned it to him before but for some reason brought it up again: “You really should clean out the shed.” He agreed and said he had been putting it off for a while but with the census happening and the pressure they would be under in the days to come, he felt she was right. It was only fair to the few animals they had. They’d been lying on the same bedding for longer than he’d normally allow. He did the few bits around the Inn, made sure they had enough stock, had a bit to eat and headed for the shed.
It was a simple structure, at the back of their home and it seemed as if it had been there forever. He wondered who had built it but had never asked. As children, they played there – “hide and seek” and other games that took them beyond the day to day life of Bethlehem. Imagination was the only toy they needed and, in the shed, it took on a life of its own. He took out the old straw and, for some reason totally foreign to his way of thinking, decided to sweep up the odd bits that he’d normally just cover over. He checked the lights and put more oil in than he might normally use. All the while, the cow and donkey watched – they too knew him to be a gentle man and he had a respect for them that they knew wasn’t always found in the human kind. Kind! Yes, that’s what he was a “kind” man.
He spent longer cleaning the shed than usual. He let his mind wander and he remembered his father one time giving the use of the shed to some people that passed through the town. He wondered where those people slept that time but knew there were no complaints. “In fairness”, he said to himself “it’s not a bad place. If I didn’t have the few animals, I often thought it would make a nice room.” Then he looked at the two, as they chewed away and said “Don’t worry, as long as you’re here, this shed is for you – you alone.” But he thought again about his father offering shelter all those years ago. Strange, he hadn’t thought of that in years ….
“How did you get on cleaning the shed?” she asked him that evening. “You should see it,” he replied, “amazing! It’s fit for a king!” They laughed.
A MOMENT TO PRAY
Lord,
Is there a room somewhere in the corner of my life that I’ve pulled the door on and not looked into for a long time? A room where once I wasn’t a stranger or afraid? A room that had its place in my life but for some reason, I just let it fall into a bit of neglect? Do I hear today a distant sound, calling to me to tidy out this room, to make it ready for it may well be needed in a way I don’t fully understand?
Give me courage Lord, and determination, to open the door again and spend time in that room – that space – that I may tend to it, clean and purify, prepare and leave ready for your coming presence.
A room – a room called “Soul”.
Amen.
From “Let Advent Be Advent”, by Vincent Sherlock (Messenger Publications, 2018) messenger.ie
I took a look at some of the themes provided by WordPress today and decided to give one of them a try! It’s ten years now since the blog started in this form (before that I had it as part of another website) and I’ve tried a few looks over the years. So, in its tenth year, I thought to give it a new look! Let me know what you think …
This evening we had our annual Remembrance Service for those who died in the parish in the past twelve months and whose funerals were celebrated in our four churches. We remember as well, family members who may have died elsewhere during the past year. It is one of the very special gatherings we have during the year and I am always pleased to see how people turn out to remember their loved ones.
I had asked one of our Pastoral Council members to lead a Reflection before the end and when searching for something earlier, I remembered some words I had written a few years ago. They were on the theme of “Sorry for your trouble”, that phrase we so often use at funerals. He read it really well and I thought that as we face the end of November, I might include the words here.
With a thought for anyone reading these lines who is grieving the loss of a loved one at this time. God grant them rest, and you peace.
Sorry for your trouble
You stood with family but seemed alone
The evening of a long drawn out day
Stretching my hand towards yours
“sorry for your trouble” was all I could say.
The man in the line before me
Those were his words as well
And the girl moving behind me
She’d say them too, I could tell.
You said them yourself to others
and wondered like me why you did
there was so much more we could say
but behind the old cliché we hid
“Sorry for your trouble”, with a tilt of the head
and a squeeze of your cold trembling hand
what do these words really mean
as we whisper do we really understand?
Sorry for your trouble is more than words
a message of grief spoken true
We have seen you cry in this chapel
And wish there was more we could do
As a friend we don’t welcome your pain
Or the loss that has come to your door
We would love to wind back the clock
Leaving people and things as before
But sadly time is not ours to control
nor the journey of the heart and its beat
and tonight, down the road from that night
We gather our words to repeat.
In quiet and dark but flickering light
We gather, bended knee and in prayer
Hands joined not handshakes this evening
As with you these minutes we share
Yes, we are sorry for your troubles
And with you we seek to move on
Not forgetting but cherishing forever
The names of loved ones passed on.
So let this night bring us closer
To Faith in the Lord’s promise to all
Not one of those the Father gave me
Have I lost to this day or let fall.
Lord, we call on your mercy
As we pray for the Faithful Departed
We pray you move through this place
Bringing comfort to the broken-hearted
And if on this night of gathering
You bring hope and a kindling of light
Then our handshake and words of the past
Were, in truth, both timely and right.
The choir sang Christie Hennessy’s wonderful “Remember Me”. You are remembered Christie, R.I.P.
This morning, when I opened the blinds I was pleased to see the sun rising through the bared branches of Winter trees. It was not the first time I had seen this but it never fails to take me by surprise for there is something very reassuring about the sun and its ability to bring warmth to the day. So often we waken to grey and dull skies so I am more than happy to welcome the sun when it makes such a glorious appearance.
From the rising of the sun
I had Masses in Kilmovee and Kilkelly and was mindful of the starkness of today’s Gospel that speaks to the final day. It is a day that cannot be avoided and one that calls us to be prepared.
I decided to share a story that I heard during the week. I got it one of those WhatsApp messages that sometimes you delete but sometimes too find thought-provoking! This one fell into that category.
THE STORY
A small boy named Roger lived in the local village. None of his classmates liked him because of his stupidity, especially his teacher, who was always yelling at him “You are driving me crazy Roger!”
One day Roger’s mother came into school to check on how he was doing. The teacher told his mother honestly, that her son is simply a disaster, getting very low marks and even she had never seen such a difficult boy to teach in her entire teaching career.
The mother was shocked at the feedback and withdrew her son from the school and even moved to another town.
Twenty-five years later, the teacher was diagnosed with an incurable cardio disease! All the doctors strongly advised her to have open heart surgery, which only one surgeon could perform. Left with no other options, the teacher decided to have the operation, which was successful.
When she opened her eyes after the surgery she saw a handsome doctor smiling down at her. She wanted to thank him, but could not talk. Her face started to turn blue, she raised her hand, trying to tell him something but eventually died!
The doctor was shocked and was trying to work out what went wrong, when he turned around he saw Roger, working as a cleaner in the clinic, who had unplugged the oxygen equipment to connect his Hoover!
Don’t tell me you thought that Roger became a doctor!
Part of me realises that this story is, in so many ways, politically incorrect but the part of me that switches that button marked “laughter” kicked in and I laughed. The story stayed with me and I shared it at the Masses this weekend. Thankfully my switch was not on its own and people laughed. I so love the sound of laughter because it is the anti-dote to so much negativity and pain.
I told them that I was happy they laughed because I believe in laughter and, that as we hear the bleakness of the Gospel message that so desperately needs to call us to attentiveness, that if we could leave this world feeling we had helped people laugh and find a tune to hum or a song to sing, we would leave it in a good place and could happily face that call “home”. On the other hand, should it be the case that we have made life difficult for people and, in any way added to their pain or made life difficult for them we may well need to reassess our attitudes and approach to life.
I know it’s not as simple as telling a joke but life need not be overly complicated either. There is a balance there that can be found and utilised.
Later in the day I prayed the Rosary with people in two of our Parish Cemeteries and, in between that was present for the turning of the sod at the local GAA pitch for the building of a new stand. I was struck by the need to break ground to build and make something new and felt the link there with the graves around which we prayed today. Earth had to be broken there too, that something new might be built for those in whose memory we gathered.
I watched a few episodes of a show on Netflix and later this evening saw the sun on the other side of my house as it prepared to say goodbye to our day. I remembered some of the people I had met and spoken with during the day, recalled the new Altar Servers at Mass in Kilkelly and was glad they chose to be there. I met good people and realised that sunshine is a wonderful backdrop to the day – even if we only remember it!
Do you know something? I felt happy that it had been a good day – between sunrise and sunset.
During the week there has been a lot of talk about today being the 100th Anniversary of Armistice Day, that brought to an end the First World War. It was called, The Great War since there was no expectation there’d be a Second World War, not to mention all the wars, battles and conflicts that have taken place up to an including our own day.
On November 11th at 11am the guns fell silent and it is that silencing of the guns we recall and give gratitude for today. There’s a remembrance being put before us of all who lost their lives during this war and, in particular from an Irish point of view, the estimated 35,000 Irishmen, who did not return home from the war.
Grave of Fr Felix Burke, Kilmovee, Co. Mayo.
Last August I celebrated Mass in Kilmovee with the Burke Family and their friends. They had requested this mass in memory of their uncle, Fr Felix Burke and his sister, a nurse, who had both taken part in the First World War, Fr Felix as a volunteer chaplain from the Diocese of Achonry. Later he was appointed Parish Priest here and died in January 1951 and is buried in the Church Grounds.
One of his nephews spoke at the end of the Mass about his own memories of his uncle and some of the rare occasions he shared stories with them from the war. One story, recalled and shared with us in August, was of Fr Felix hearing confessions on the battlefield (The Somme) and of his encounter with a young soldier. When they finished the celebration of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the soldier asked Fr Felix where he was from. Felix said he came from Collooney in County Sligo and the soldier told him he was from Dromard – a few miles from Collooney. It very much brought home to me, the reality of our people being involved in the war – some to see home again and, sadly, many who did not.
I spoke of this at the weekend Masses in Kilmovee parish and also of the fact that somebody had shared a photo with me during the week. It was of a Remembrance Monument in Castlebar that lists all those from County Mayo who were killed in the war. The piece in the photograph contained the names of people from Kilmovee. I searched on line and found other names from Kilkelly. Specific townlands in the parish were not to be found so I imagine there was just a general address for the soldiers. I am sure too, that there are other names not found, or possibly no longer in living memory but I thought it right to list the names we had. People stood, remembered them and said “Rest In Peace” after each name was read.
“Countless white crosses in mute witness stand to man’s blind indifference to his fellow man …..”
Private Edward Boyle, Kilkelly
Private Patrick Cuddy, Kilkelly
Private James Doherty, Kilmovee
Guardsman Patrick Duffy, Kilmovee
Private Richard Forkin, Kilmovee
Private John Harrington, Kilkelly
Private Edward Higgins, Kilmovee
Private Martin Higgins, Kilmovee
Sergeant Dominick Jordan, Kilmovee
Rifleman James Judge, Kilmovee
Private Thomas Kearns, Kilkelly
Private Patrick Kelly, Kilmovee
Private James Kenneally, Kilkelly
Private John Mannion, Kilmovee
Private Matthew Mullen, Kilmovee
Private J Mulligan, Kilmovee
Private Michael Walsh, Kilmovee
I sang a song today at Mass that I used at the Family Mass in August. It’s a well known song, recalling a man sitting beside the grave of a young soldier. I read recently that Eric Bogle, the composer of the song, was anxious that an Irish name be attached to the solider as there was much Anti-Irish sentiment in England at the time he wrote the song. He wanted it put on record that many Irish men gave their lives in England’s name and that this reality should not be overlooked. The song is called “The Green Fields of France” and there is no finer version than that sung by The Fureys and Davey Arthur. That said, I sung it today and just did a recording now of my “version” so hope you don’t mind me including it!
THE GREEN FIELDS OF FRANCE
THE LAST POST
In the chorus of the song there is mention of The Last Post so maybe we could listen to its sombre tones now and include a prayer for all who have died and continue to die through war, conflict and violence. “Lord, deliver us from all evil and grant us peace in our day”.
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