I was at a Birthday Party for my sister-in-law yesterday and happy to meet my family and friends there. Always good. I left a bit (probably a lot) earlier than the others as I was due to go to a Priests’ Retreat with priests of Elphin Diocese. That too, thankfully, is going well. Decent men to be with and refreshing to share something of the road with them – from potholes to motorways!!
Yesterday was the 28th Anniversary of my ordination – by day and date and somehow that made it all very real. I went to Templeronan Cemetery after I left my brother’s house to say a prayer at my parents’ grave. I sat down for a while and the grave’s surround seemed inviting enough. I decided to take a selfie! Not something I do in a graveyard but thought I’d like to have a photo with (at least) my parents’ names in the background.
Mary and Bill remain forever at the heart of anything I try to be – to do. Visits to Templeronan, though irregular enough, bring something of a connection though also something of the divide. The connection wins out everytime. I miss them, for sure, but they continue to be central to every moment of my life. “They lived, they loved, they laughed, they left” was a quote on a sympathy card a friend sent me after my father died. There’s great truth in it.
I went from there to St Patrick’s Church, Gurteen to spend a bit of time there. The church is always familiar and welcoming. I spoke to two or three people in the church yard – they were at a distance and it was more of a wave and acknowledgement than a full blown conversation. I don’t think I knew any of them. That frightened me a bit. Chances are they’re neighbours that I should know. I’m not sure they knew me either. I don’t want a distance between me and home. When people ask me where I’m from – my immediate response is Co. Sligo – Gurteen and, if that rings a bell we bring it a step closer to Moygara and Cloonloo. It saddens me a little that I’ve lost contact with a lot around home now.
The church though is constant – as it’s intended to be. I walked around a little, looked at the bulletin – noticed prayers requested for John Rushe (R.I.P.) and remembered him in prayer. The church was empty and I was happy about that. I looked at the Altar and the aisle – now covered in carpet but tiled the day I was ordained. I decided to lie down as I had done the day I was ordained. “Prostrate” they call it (note the second “r” in that word!!) and I did – twenty eight years ago it was a sign of needing people’s prayer and of being willing to submit to that need. Though there was nobody there yesterday, the quick moment reminds me again that those prayers are still needed.
The original moment – June 14th 1987
Another reason I wanted to go to Gurteen yesterday was to visit the grave of Fr John Casey. He was a priest in Gurteen back in the 30s and my mother always spoke of him – included him in every prayer we ever tried to say. She used give us stones from his grave and nearly always there’d be one in our pockets. I have tried to keep this tradition alive in my own life but the stocks go down!! I replenished the stock yesterday – partly because I wanted to speak to the priests of Elphin Diocese (attending the retreat) about him and his kindness remembered throughout my mother’s life and passed on to us. I’d like to think there might be something of that kindness left following our earthly ministry too.
So that was yesterday. Today’s a new day and we’ll make the most of it. I think that “most” includes bringing what’s good with us from yesterday too.
A week ago I spoke about Friday’s Referendum and mentioned it quite likely that by this weekend, the votes, cast and counted, would reveal a majority in its favour. I didn’t need to be much of a forecaster or analyst to arrive at that conclusion.
Such is the case today. On this Pentecost Sunday we stand with all who stood yesterday in the hope that they too stand with us. It is certain that many of those gathered yesterday, longing and waiting for our country’s yes, are today, like us, gathered in church, praying with their neighours and communities. We were not enemies yesterday, nor are we today. On the contrary, as one we seek peace and direction, strength, dignity and hope.
There is surely no better day to do it. Into the “locked upper room” came the Spirit of God to empower and release. Doors once locked were opened, voices once silenced found their breath, language once confused found a common and shared vocabulary. The Holy Spirit came to bring courage for the road and hope for the day. The Apostles left that upper room and walked onto the world’s streets. We have been walking since. That conversation continues.
Archbishop Diarmuid Marin spoke yesterday, in a timely and gentle tone, to say our church needs to have a “reality check”. I liked what he had to say and believe there’s a great truth in it. It’s certain we have lost contact with a sizeable number of our people. He spoke, in particular, of young people but I feel it goes broader than that. So on this Day of The Holy Spirit, what better way to begin that check than to ask that same Spirit to empower us, engage us and bring us to a place and point where discussion continues.
Are we about yes and no? Are we meant for division and hostility? Are we intended to be fearful or mistrusting of one another? I think not. We are on a journey as one and, to that journey, we invite again the Gifts and Fruits of the Holy Spirit. More than invite them, we rely on them.
I mentioned last week that if the referendum passed because people genuinely felt it was for the good of our country and its people that I could and would live easily with that decision. If, on the other hand, it was to be viewed as some victory over the Church and its teachings, I’d find it difficult to come to terms with that and considered it a high price to pay. For that reason, I think it’s only fair to acknowledge the many who called for “no”, voted “no” and believed in “no”. This “no” was and is rooted in love of something held very dear and sacred – something at the core of most of our lives – the reality that was father and mother, doing together their best. Of course there were exceptions. Sadly too there were tragedies and illnesses that deprived children of one or both parents but the truth remains that many among us value married life and felt it under threat. Out of that and because of that, there was a desire not to have its meaning changed.
This, for the majority of people calling for “no”, had nothing to do with hatred, homophobia or oppression. People – the Church (and its teachers) wanted to protect something held sacred. There was no wish to hold people back or create division but, as I understand it, a call to reflect before change might be made.
To that end, it is possible that many did in fact “reflect” as the bishops asked and having done so came to the conclusion, that they had enough faith to sustain marriage as we know it, to continue to cherish it whilst opening the way for other understandings. Should that be the case, we pray for the sustaining of that faith and a way to communicate it with generations to come.
My deep wish is that we can put “yes” and “no” behind us now and journey respectful of one another in a way that is dignified and worthy of human beings – men and women – sharing time and space.
Furthermore, I truly hope that all can come to see our church as a place of welcome and challenge. Through that welcome may we accept the challenge to be better people because of our Faith, Hope and Love. I don’t believe the church seeks to oppress people. That is not why we are Catholics. On the contrary, we are called to be people of hope and encouragement. We have to own our Faith and speak from it. There’s so much good to be cherished, valued and shared. I fear the apparent desire to silence this sharing and the lack of courage, at times, to bring our Faith alive to the market place. Of course some of our teachings are demanding and maybe even burdensome but, like all lessons taught with passion, seek to bring us to a place of understanding.
Indeed Archbishop Diarmuid’s words refer to this. Whilst most will focus (as did I) on his mention of the need for “reality check”, he had more than that to say – not least about the teachings of our church. He puts it well:
“we tend to think in black and white but most of us live in the area of grey, and if the church has a harsh teaching, it seems to be condemning those who are not in line with it.
“But all of us live in the grey area. All of us fail. All of us are intolerant. All of us make mistakes. All of us sin and all of us pick ourselves up again with the help of that institution which should be there to do that.
“The church’s teaching, if it isn’t expressed in terms of love – then it’s got it wrong,” he said.
So come again Holy Spirit and fill (again) the hearts of ALL your Faithful, enkindle in them, the Fire of your love, and we shall renew the face of the earth.
On Friday night, as I drove home from a wedding reception, I became deeply aware of the little light on my dashboard that was telling me my fuel level was “too low”! I had noticed this earlier but figured I’d get some diesel when I left the reception. Alas, it was later than I’d planned and the first Filling Station I came to was closed. I didn’t panic and assumed I’d find another quickly and easily. The old saying about it being ill-advised to assume (“makes and ASS out of U and ME”) seemed quite apt!!
Eventually I arrived at a Filling Station and noticed the staff were in the process of closing – a young man gathering up the bits and pieces from the fore-court and his companion inside “tilling up” for the night. I pulled in quickly and in so doing, parked at an odd angle. I thought I’d try it but the pump stopped just short of the filler cap. I gave it a go and spilt 23c worth of diesel on the ground. Needless to say, I re-adjusted my parking position and had another go!!
Today’s Gospel speaks of Jesus being the “VINE” and we being the “branches”. “Cut off from me”, he says, “you can do nothing”. We need the source. My car needed the diesel and there was only one place to go to satisfy that need – the pump. Had I chosen not to, sooner rather than later, I’d have been left on the side of the road with flashing hazard lights a small comfort as cars passed on. To stay on the road, I needed fuel. To get fuel, I needed to go to where it was on offer and to fill the tank I needed to park a while, align the pump and the filler and leit the diesel flow into the tank.
I realise this is a small story – maybe even pointless in the scale of events that happen every day – but there’s, for me, a link here. We need to re-fuel – to connect with “The Vine” for cut off from Him, we can do nothing.
On Saturday last, I had Mass in Urlaur. It was a Month’s Mind Mass for a lady named Gertie Duffy, R.I.P.
I mentioned that I went to see her in hospital when I heard she was sick. The “news” as they say, was not good and from an early stage her husband and family were prepared for the worst. I went then with some degree of caution, not fully knowing how I’d find her or how open she’d be to my visit. I need not have worried.
When I went into the ward, she was there with her sister – a sister I’d not met before. She looked at me, smiled, welcomed me and said to her sister “This is the man who looks after us”. We chatted for a little while, I gave her a blessing, spoke a little with her family and came on home.
In the car, I thought about the introduction – “This is the man who looks after us ….” I wondered what I’d said to her that might have remained with her and, even now, don’t know. I do however know that her words have stayed with me.
That’s what I am meant to be. On Vocations Sunday, “Good Shepherd” Sunday, I am reminded through her words that I am meant to be the one who looks after people. That’s why I became a priest. I’m grateful to her for that lovely, appropriate and ultimately challenging introduction.
What does it mean to “look after” people? I think it means loving people enough to want to see the very best for them. It’s something to do with hoping people are safe and secure and they know you’re available to them when needed. Be it for a chat or moan, a prayer or a blessing … whatever. It doesn’t mean, as far as I’m concerned, that I am better than others in any way shape or form. All I can do is be the “me” that I am and bring to the table the gifts I have to offer. I am constantly aware that there are people in my life, in my parish who lose and find me in spirituality and prayer, in selflessness and giving, in charity and support … Just as I am reminded of that truth, I become all the more convinced that I must do my best with what I have to be a priest among the people.
Gertie was right – I am thankful on this Vocations Sunday for the many people who allow me the privilege of “looking after” them insofar as I do. It’s a happy task for it includes being with people in times of joy and sorrow, certainty and doubt, peace and anger, sickness and health and ….
It’s a rewarding place to be – not without its own moments of doubt and self-questioning when the focus can be darkened by feelings of not doing enough, of seeming to lose people along the way, of not being relevant to some of our younger people who draw their inspiration from other sources and dip their buckets in other wells and seem to number me, and my kind, as some outdated relic from a world that is no longer theirs. That really hurts the heart of my being a priest for, at times, it’s their ears I want to find words for but words don’t easily come. The hope remains that they’d know, if need be, when need be, they can come to my door. Should that moment arrive, I pray that I’d not make them ever regret that decision.
It was right that I visit Gertie. Needless to say, like her people, I wish the outcome had been different. It was nonetheless the role of the priest in her parish to call to her in a moment of need. I’m glad I did. Glad that though we’d not had an awful amount of contact in life, other than seeing her in church, the odd chat here and there, that she saw me as one who had a part to play in her life.
The question today, for me – for us all, on Vocations Sunday, is who will continue to be that person in the future life of our church, its parishes and communities? What shape is this Vocation going to take?
I believe the need remains. I believe the call is still going out “Pray, the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to His harvest” …. who is going to hear that call? Who is going to help others hear that call?
Just caught closing minutes of a documentary on Joan Baez and this song featured. I’d never heard it before. Glad I heard it today.
“GOD IS GOD” (Lyrics)
(Steve Earle)
I believe in prophecy
Some folks see things
Not everybody can see
And once in a while
They pass the secret along
To you and me
And I believe in miracles
Something sacred burning
In every bush and tree
We can all learn to sing
The songs the angels sing
Yeah I believe in God
And God ain’t me
I’ve traveled around the world
Stood on mighty mountains
And gazed across the wilderness
Never seen a line in the sand
Or a diamond in the dust
And as our fate unfurls
Every day that passes
I’m sure about a little bit less
Even my money keeps telling me
It’s God I need to trust
And I believe in God
But God ain’t us
God of my little understanding
Don’t care what name I call
Whether or not I believe
Doesn’t matter at all
I receive the blessings
That every day on earth’s
another chance to get it right
Let this little light of mine
Shine and rage against the night
Just another lesson
Maybe someone’s watching
And wondering what I got
Maybe this is why I’m here on earth
And maybe not
Following on from the few words posted for this weekend around the Road FROM Emmaus, I thought I’d re-post an entry from some time ago. There is a link!
________________________
I was at a weekend retreat in Killenard, Co. Laois a few years ago. In the dining room there hung a painting entiled something along the lines “Servant Girl At Emmaus” and it depicted a rather puzzled looking girl at a table. There were some items on the table but there was nobody at it. I assumed it was the table at which Jesus had sat with the two travelling companions and that they had left in a hurry – Jesus having “vanished” from their sight and the two men legging it back to Jerusalem to tell the others they had seen him. I remember thinking did she wonder “who’s going to have to pay for this?”
I mentioned the painting to a priest friend sometime later – one who is more appreciative of the arts than I. He knew the painting from my description and, though he shared my joke about the girl wondering would she have to pay for the meal since the diners had apparently done a runner, he let me know (gentlty, in fairness) that I had missed the point. The girl is actually in the kitchen and Jesus and the two may still be seen at a corner table. She is listening and wondering because she believes it is Jesus but realises his table companions haven’t recognised him. Here’s the painting …. have a look at the girl and the men in the corner …
The Servant-Girl at Emmaus (A Painting by Valasquez)
Earlier this evening, I googled this painting and came across the following poem by Denise Levertov that sums it up so well … The Gospel passage ends with us being told that they recognised him in the “breaking of bread” – this girl, it seems, recognised him in the serving of bread. Oh, to have eyes to see, ears to hear and Faith to believe …..
She listens, listens, holding
her breath. Surely that voice
is his – the one
who had looked at her, once, across the crowd,
as no one ever had looked?
Had seer her? Had spoken as if to her?
Surely those hands were his,
taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?
Surely that face-?
The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
The man it was rumored now some women had seen this morning, alive?
Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.
But she in the kitchen, absently touching the winejug she’s to take in,
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n Friday night, as I drove home from a wedding reception, I became deeply aware of the little light on my dashboard that was telling me my fuel level was “too low”! I had noticed this earlier but figured I’d get some diesel when I left the reception. Alas, it was later than I’d planned and the first Filling Station I came to was closed. I didn’t panic and assumed I’d find another quickly and easily. The old saying about it being ill-advised to assume (“makes and ASS out of U and ME”) seemed quite apt!!
