Earlier today, I received a phonecall from someone telling me my computer had a virus and that he would fix it for me over the phone. I knew this to be a scam and was about to say something “soothing” to him when I thought “no, let’s see how long he will toughen this out” so I decided to record. The following is the result!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItrN61HHibg]
I got Leonard Cohen’s new album “Old Ideas” during the week. The songs, as usual, are thought provoking but one, in particular caught my attention. It’s called “Come Healing” and is, in my opinion, a lovely piece. I’d see it at home in any setting where Reconciliation might be celebrated.
“Come Healing”
O gather up the brokenness
And bring it to me now
The fragrance of those promises
You never dared to vow
The splinters that you carry
The cross you left behind
Come healing of the body
Come healing of the mind
And let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb
Behold the gates of mercy
In arbitrary space
And none of us deserving
The cruelty or the grace
O solitude of longing
Where love has been confined
Come healing of the body
Come healing of the mind
O see the darkness yielding
That tore the light apart
Come healing of the reason
Come healing of the heart
O troubled dust concealing
An undivided love
The Heart beneath is teaching
To the broken Heart above
O let the heavens falter
And let the earth proclaim:
Come healing of the Altar
Come healing of the Name
O longing of the branches
To lift the little bud
O longing of the arteries
To purify the blood
And let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb
O let the heavens hear it
The penitential hymn
Come healing of the spirit
Come healing of the limb
(Leonard Cohen ©)
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A follow-up!
I get interested in things from time to time – some stay with me, others don’t. Some I let go of for a while and then come back to them. Some I never re-visit. Leonard Cohen is one of those interests that stays with me but comes and goes a bit as well. Anyway, following on from the song posted above, I looked a bit at Leonard today and came across the following speech he gave at a presentation ceremony in Spain last year. He speaks of “finding his voice” – “finding his song”. I think it’s worth a few minutes of your time. If you haven’t the time now – come back to it ……
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIR5ps8usuo]
TEXT OF SPEECH
It is a great honour to stand here before you tonight. Perhaps, like the great maestro, Riccardo Muti, I’m not used to standing in front of an audience without an orchestra behind me, but I will do my best as a solo artist tonight.
I stayed up all night last night wondering what I might say to this assembly. After I had eaten all the chocolate bars and peanuts from the minibar, I scribbled a few words. I don’t think I have to refer to them. Obviously, I’m deeply touched to be recognized by the Foundation. But I have come here tonight to express another dimension of gratitude; I think I can do it in three or four minutes.
When I was packing in Los Angeles, I had a sense of unease because I’ve always felt some ambiguity about an award for poetry. Poetry comes from a place that no one commands, that no one conquers. So I feel somewhat like a charlatan to accept an award for an activity which I do not command. In other words, if I knew where the good songs came from I would go there more often.
I was compelled in the midst of that ordeal of packing to go and open my guitar. I have a Conde guitar, which was made in Spain in the great workshop at number 7 Gravina Street. I pick up an instrument I acquired over 40 years ago. I took it out of the case, I lifted it, and it seemed to be filled with helium it was so light. And I brought it to my face and I put my face close to the beautifully designed rosette, and I inhaled the fragrance of the living wood. We know that wood never dies. I inhaled the fragrance of the cedar as fresh as the first day that I acquired the guitar. And a voice seemed to say to me, “You are an old man and you have not said thank you, you have not brought your gratitude back to the soil from which this fragrance arose. And so I come here tonight to thank the soil and the soul of this land that has given me so much.
Because I know that just as an identity card is not a man, a credit rating is not a country.
Now, you know of my deep association and confraternity with the poet Frederico Garcia Lorca. I could say that when I was a young man, an adolescent, and I hungered for a voice, I studied the English poets and I knew their work well, and I copied their styles, but I could not find a voice. It was only when I read, even in translation, the works of Lorca that I understood that there was a voice. It is not that I copied his voice; I would not dare. But he gave me permission to find a voice, to locate a voice, that is to locate a self, a self that that is not fixed, a self that struggles for its own existence.
As I grew older, I understood that instructions came with this voice. What were these instructions? The instructions were never to lament casually. And if one is to express the great inevitable defeat that awaits us all, it must be done within the strict confines of dignity and beauty.
And so I had a voice, but I did not have an instrument. I did not have a song.
And now I’m going to tell you very briefly a story of how I got my song.
Because – I was an indifferent guitar player. I banged the chords. I only knew a few of them. I sat around with my college friends, drinking and singing the folk songs and the popular songs of the day, but I never in a thousand years thought of myself as a musician or as a singer.
One day in the early sixties, I was visiting my mother’s house in Montreal. Her house was beside a park and in the park was a tennis court where many people come to watch the beautiful young tennis players enjoy their sport. I wandered back to this park which I’d known since my childhood, and there was a young man playing a guitar. He was playing a flamenco guitar, and he was surrounded by two or three girls and boys who were listening to him. I loved the way he played. There was something about the way he played that captured me. It was the way that I wanted to play and knew that I would never be able to play.
And, I sat there with the other listeners for a few moments and when there was a silence, an appropriate silence, I asked him if he would give me guitar lessons. He was a young man from Spain, and we could only communicate in my broken French and his broken French. He didn’t speak English. And he agreed to give me guitar lessons. I pointed to my mother’s house which you could see from the tennis court, and we made an appointment and settled a price.
He came to my mother’s house the next day and he said, “Let me hear you play something.” I tried to play something, and he said, “You don’t know how to play, do you?’
I said, “No, I don’t know how to play.” He said “First of all, let me tune your guitar. It’s all out of tune.” So he took the guitar, and he tuned it. He said, “It’s not a bad guitar.” It wasn’t the Conde, but it wasn’t a bad guitar. So, he handed it back to me. He said, “Now play.”
I couldn’t play any better.
He said “Let me show you some chords.” And he took the guitar, and he produced a sound from that guitar I had never heard. And he played a sequence of chords with a tremolo, and he said, “Now you do it.” I said, “It’s out of the question. I can’t possibly do it.” He said, “Let me put your fingers on the frets,” and he put my fingers on the frets. And he said, “Now, now play.”
It was a mess. He said, ” I’ll come back tomorrow.”
He came back tomorrow, he put my hands on the guitar, he placed it on my lap in the way that was appropriate, and I began again with those six chords – a six chord progression. Many, many flamenco songs are based on them.
I was a little better that day. The third day – improved, somewhat improved. But I knew the chords now. And, I knew that although I couldn’t coordinate my fingers with my thumb to produce the correct tremolo pattern, I knew the chords; I knew them very, very well.
The next day, he didn’t come. He didn’t come. I had the number of his, of his boarding house in Montreal. I phoned to find out why he had missed the appointment, and they told me that he had taken his life. That he committed suicide.
I knew nothing about the man. I did not know what part of Spain he came from. I did not know why he came to Montreal. I did not know why he played there. I did not know why he he appeared there at that tennis court. I did not know why he took his life.
I was deeply saddened, of course. But now I disclose something that I’ve never spoken in public. It was those six chords, it was that guitar pattern that has been the basis of all my songs and all my music. So, now you will begin to understand the dimensions of the gratitude I have for this country.
Everything that you have found favourable in my work comes from this place. Everything , everything that you have found favourable in my songs and my poetry are inspired by this soil.
So, I thank you so much for the warm hospitality that you have shown my work because it is really yours, and you have allowed me to affix my signature to the bottom of the page
Yesterday I visited a neighbour and his family in Donegal. They shared the following video clip with me and they know themselves how appropriate it was! Anyway it brought smiles and I thought I might look it up and share here ….. See what you think!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6keUdzwFCHU]
This weekend’s gospel speaks of the calling of the first four disciples – all fishermen. I put a few lines on our parish bulletin this week about vocations and about our Parish Cluster. I suppose this came about as a result of a meeting we had among the priests of our cluster in recent weeks and of the diocese towards the end of last year. In both gatherings it was easy to see that the age profile of our priests is increasing and the number decreasing. Maybe today’s few lines came from that and a hope that God’s call to the four fishermen might be heard again ….
There’s been a poll running on our diocesan website for the past two weeks or so. The question posed is “When was the last priest ordained for the diocese of Achonry?” There are four options: 1998, 2003, 2006, 2010. The response hasn’t been massive but, so far, 25 people have responded. 12% think the last ordination was in 1998, 20% believe it was in 2006, 32% answered 2003 and 36% 2010. The correct answer is 2003. In other words 68% of those who responded to the poll were incorrect in their response and 32% were correct.
Was it about being right or wrong? No! The reason for the question was to perhaps make visitors to our diocesan site reflect on the length of time since a priest was ordained to serve within the diocese of Achonry. The answer – ten years. In those ten years a number of our priests have died. Some more have retired or ceased ministry.
In the cluster of parishes to which we align ourselves (Kiltimagh, Swinford, Bohola, Charlestown, Carracastle and Kilmovee) there are ten priests in parish ministry (three are aged 40-45, two aged 45-50, one aged 50-55, two aged 65-70, one aged 70-75 and one is over 75). In the coming years, allowing for retirements and other diocesan needs as well as unforeseeable circumstances it is certain the number of priests in this cluster will reduce. We have two students in Maynooth at present and that is good news!
There are twenty-five weekend Masses celebrated in this Parish Cluster – many of them at the same time. The weekend Mass is certainly meant to be the highpoint of a Parish’s Liturgical life and a vital cog in the sharing of the Gospel Message. It is a time of gathering, sharing, nourishing, healing, praying and of all that is good and necessary in the life of a Catholic Community. As we look at today’s age-profile of priests in this area it is certain that within a short number of years we will not be in a position to celebrate Masses at the present level. There will be need to re-align times with other parishes, to share priests between parishes and to make practical arrangements at parish level.
As the Lord calls Apostles to his side in this weekend’s Gospel passage, there remains of course the hope that the Spring may find its voice and that some from our diocese might again hear God’s call and join our two students on their “road to priesthood”. There can be no doubt but that He is calling priests to ministry in our diocese. Nine years is a long time …………. “Come follow me”!
Fr Gerry Horan
At Mass this morning (Kilmovee) I spoke of a classmate of mine who was ordained a few months before the rest of our class. He was Gerry Horan – a neighbour from home – who was ordained for the Diocese of Elphin. Gerry had been a solicitor for most of his life, was widowed and had two children. He was nearly 70 when he was ordained. As a young man he had joined the Passionist Order but left before ordination. Somehow this thought of priesthood had remained with him through his life. As I say, he was ordained a few months before the rest of us and worked until he died in Tibohine (Parish of Fairymount)
Gerry preached at Mass one evening when we were in Maynooth. I think it may have been the same Gospel passage we reflected on this weekend. He talked of being a young boy and fishing alongside a friend of his on the shores of Lough Gara. His friend caught a trout and Gerry told us he caught nothing. As they cycled back home to Mullaghroe, Gerry asked his friend how come he had caught a fish when Gerry wasn’t able to. His friend didn’t answer until they were nearly at home and then he told him “I prayed”. Gerry said he laughed at him but the friend insisted. “You asked me and I told you. I prayed. I said ‘Holy Ghost, direct me to catch a fish’. You asked me and I told you.”
Gerry told us that he was back at Lough Gara on his own the next morning. He said he sat in the same spot and prayed “Holy Ghost direct me to catch a fish” and, as if he could still feel the tug on the line, he smiled as he told us “I caught the two finest trout I ever caught in my life”. He continued, “I put them on my back, cycled home, was late for school, got six slaps but I didn’t give a damn! I had caught two fish and learned how to pray”!
He finished his few words that evening by telling us that in the Gospels the Lord seemed to have a great love for fishermen but not so much for lawyers. “Maybe”, he said “that’s why I think it’s time to become a fisherman again”.
This week we have mourned with the people of West Cork the loss of five fishermen from the local and Egyptian community. Our hearts go out to them and their families and all who live the life of the sea. Fishermen have great patience and an ability to see beneath the surface – knowing where to cast the net, drop the line, direct the boat ….. Someone once told me that quite often fishermen don’t learn to swim since they know the power of the sea and possibly the futility of struggle. They trust the outcome, even if we don’t fully see or understand it, will be in God’s hands.
Maybe that’s why Jesus chose fishermen. He knew they could and would depend on him. He knew they understood patience and the need for the right bait, the dropped line and hope!
As I say …. just a thought and, as it turns out, a memory of my neighbour and classmate, Fr Gerry Horan. With the fishermen of West Cork, may he rest in peace. Amen.
And now the tune! One of my favourites. We need to be able to see the Green, the black, the grey, the blue, the yellow and not just the colours but also their very many shades …..
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=us4JJQmOmnQ]
Went for a walk with the dog this morning. All went well (as well as it gets!) until we met a woman walking two dogs. Not a whimper from them but my companion felt he had to make his presence felt. I’m sure she spoke softly to her two dogs when we passed by “how bad-mannered was that??” Ah no, in fairness, she was gracious and maybe pitied me a little. Anyway, the walk continued and coming near home, Alpha decided to climb up on a stone wall. He looked well so I took a quick photo. He looked almost like I was in control. There’s an Oscar in it for him I’d say. Anyway, decided to combine a few of those photos with a Johnny Cash classic …. “Walk the Line”. Enjoy! Failing that, ignore ….
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Npv5tSOebsA]
Last night for the second time in my life I was at a New Year’s Eve gathering. Most years I went home to be with Bill and Mary for midnight. I remember us gathering there and – many years back, Junior O’Beirne arriving to help my father ring in the new year by hitting a gas cylinder (empty of course!!) with a sledge hammer. It was amazing how much noise that made. For years afterwards Junior, God be good to him, used ring our house just after midnight to wish Bill, Mary and all of us a Happy New Year. Like many things that came to an end but the gathering continued. I’d call before midnight and wait into the New Year before heading back to the parish.
One year I remember missing was when I attended the Rooskey New Year’s Eve Gig in Kennedy’s Lounge, Doocastle. The “Rooskeys” made a point of celebrating that night and I didn’t know that the first year I was in the parish but someone told me for the second year. I went over, intending to spend a while and leave to be with Bill and Mary for midnight. As it turned out, the band booked for the night, didn’t turn up and I, with another talented (:)) local ended up counting in the New Year and singing. I can’t remember much of what I sang but I remember a very rousing version of “Things” he sang. Mostly because he didn’t know the words and would just shout “Things” and the filling in of the words was done by the Rooskeys “like a walk in the park” … “like a kiss in the dark” …. It was a good night.
Last night I went to Castlebar to see Imelda May in Concert. Excellent show and what an entertainer! Powerful and lovely. Packed house. first class entertainment and professional to the last. She sang, among many powerful songs, “Kentish Town Waltz” the first song of her’s I heard back in August and have listened to many times since. Lovely idea of sticking together, even if times are difficult. Lovely to hear and see it sung live. Brilliant band and a very enjoyable occasion.
[wpvideo 70o9Eh2V]
I went alone and was alone at midnight. The Royal Theatre was packed to capacity, Imelda counted in 2012 and sang “Shall auld acquaintance” and I enjoyed it but I was alone! Not sad, not down in my shoes but alone. The night in Kennedy’s and the countless nights in Moygara were different because I was standing with people I knew, people who knew me and we wanted to stand together. That’s what New Year’s Eve is about. It’s about an awareness of the people you want to stand with you and with whom you want and need to stand. It’s a real moment of reflection.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5pFx9sb8K0]
I’m thrilled I was in Castlebar and enjoyed it so much and am thankful to Imelda and her Band for sharing such a wonderful talent but Kennedy’s was a fuller experience of belonging – so too Moygara. We bring to the midnight hour of December 31st, the people that matter. What I’m saying is we need to be so SO thankful for the people we want to be with and who want to be with us.
Earlier this week I received a text from a priest friend. I’m assuming he received it from someone else (not that I doubt his originality). I shared it today at Mass as my “homily” for New Year’s Day. I believe it has a powerful message.
The text read: “”The fire you kindle for your enemy often burns yourself more than him. May you have the courage in 2012 to put out lots of fires and I pray that you will not get burned”.
Happy New Year!! God Bless now and always.
[wpvideo ELBWpGlF]
