Reek Sunday, they call it – the last Sunday in July when tens of thousands of people climb Croagh Patrick. It’s a tradition deeply rooted in the Irish Soul but not one I’ve ever been part of. If you know me and know the Reek, chances are you can connect the dots!! If you don’t, well that’s another story!
The “Reek” is quite a climb. I’ve been there ………….
Once! I climbed it back in the early 90s with a few people from Collooney parish. I’ve been sort of there twice since then. I’ll have another go, in time but setting no deadline. Why mention it today? The answer is found in yesterday.
We had our Annual Cemetery Mass in Naomh Mobhí Cemetery. It was incredible to see so many people there. I thought to take a photograph at some stage of the congregation but that didn’t happen. I did manage to get a photograph of their cars though!
I had a few words on the Parish Bulletin this week about Cemetery Masses and why they are so important to people:
By Sunday we will have celebrated Mass in four of the Cemeteries in the parish (St Celsus’ Cemetery, Kilkelly, St Patrick’s, St Celsus’ Culmore and Naomh Mobhí). During the week we will celebrate Mass at Urlaur Abbey with a special remembrance there for all who are buried in its hallowed grounds and later in the year we will celebrate Mass in St Brigid’s Cemetery, Urlaur. All these Masses are very well attended and important to all who come along to say a prayer and remember the dead.
It raises the question, “WHY?” Why are these so important? Why do we place such emphasis on remembering the dead? It is not because of death but because of life. We don’t remember people because they died, we remember (and love) them because they lived.
Love is the reason we celebrate these Masses. Love for those who have gone before us and a deep belief in God’s love for us all, a love that goes beyond the grave. The love made real when Jesus called Lazurus from the grave and invited his friends to “unbind him” and “let him go free”. We too pray for the happy release of all who have died, confident that our love for them and our prayers for them continue to matter deeply.
The morning was lovely but we had a brief fall of rain during the Mass. It happened just at the time I was going to share a few words by way of homily. I hadn’t intended it to be long but just to be sure, God sent a little rainfall to hurry me up! This is where the “Reek” came into play. There were at least two people at the Cemetery Mass who had earlier that same morning climbed the Reek. I never cease to be amazed by the dedication of people. We buried a man in the parish last year who, from his childhood days, never missed a “Reek Sunday”. He told me one time he used cycle there (75KM), climb the mountain and cycle home again.
On Saturday I was driving into Westport for a Wedding Reception and Croagh Patrick was ahead of me, unmoved and ever present, tall and strong but its summit was not visible. There was a mist down on the summit that made it impossible to make make out the towering point of the mountain. I knew it was there but it could not be seen. My inability to see it, the mist’s covering of it, could not take away the truth that the summit was still there.
That’s the point I wanted to take to our Cemetery Mass yesterday. Grief, like that mist, envelops our view. Our loved ones, once clearly visible to us may no longer be within our range of vision but the reality of their presence and the depth of our love for them remains as certain as the Croagh Patrick summit.
Saturday’s mist gave way on Sunday morning to Pilgrims’ steps and the summit was reached. I believe we can work through grief, not always quickly or easily but step by step, bit by bit the climb can be made and the summit reached.
Earlier I looked at Cardinal O’Malley’s Blog and notice he has included piece on his recent visit to Ireland, especially to Knock and Ballintubber Abbey. Was pleased to see, in his post, some photos I’d taken! More importantly I was pleased to see a link to a YouTube video of the Mass. I especially like the anointing of the Altar during the Mass.
Archbishop Neary spoke at the beginning of the Mass and he quoted Pope John Paull 11 who spoke at Knock in 1979. I liked the words but could not fully recall them. Take a few minutes to hear his words too. The piece I liked is around the 20 min mark and includes these words from Pope John Paul and he appeals to God to keep the Faith alive in the hearts of the people of Ireland;
“May prosperity never cause Irish men and women to forget God or abandon their faith. Keep them faithful in prosperity to the faith they would not surrender in poverty and persecution. Save them from greed, from envy, from seeking selfish or sectional interest. Help them to work together with a sense of Christian purpose and a common Christian goal, to build a just,, peaceful and loving society where the poor are never neglected and the rights of all, especially the weak, are respected.”
I was asked earlier today to write a few lines for the tenth edition of our Parish Magazine. I said yes. There was no suggestion around what I should write but that’s the way the editorial team has been with me over the years. It’s left to myself. I was reminded of words I wrote nearly two years ago for the magazine. They’re elsewhere in this blog but I thought I’d bring them to the front again. It was a thought around the changes I’ve encountered since ordination but also of the consistency that remains for all of us, found in the day to day living of life and journeying in faith ……
There was, in poetry, a time
I thought things had to rhyme
That was, in poetry, the only way
At least that’s what I used to say!
But of that today I’m not so sure
Could it be I’m more mature?
The lines above speak to something of the truth. As a student in St Nathy’s College, I never fully understood poems that didn’t rhyme. More than that, I disliked them and the “poets” who wrote them so obviously unaware that poems should have a rhyming pattern. I remember pointing this out on one occasion, only to be told by a fellow pupil who understood things at a deeper level than I and who knew, even then, that poems didn’t have to rhyme: “Vincent, that is the basic essence of poetry”! I disliked him as well that day (had I been on Facebook, I’d probably have de-friended him!!)
It was handy when the poem rhymed! It was easier to learn, easier to remember and easier to churn out on a page of an Inter or Leaving Certificate answer book.
Back to the poetry!
So is that I’m more mature?
Like you, of that, I’m not so sure
From whence then came the clue
Some don’t rhyme and some just do
The answer I suppose lies in life … as a boy, a student in Maynooth, a newly ordained priest I thought answers were easily found. Things had an order about them – a sort of pattern like the rhyming poem. Before I was ordained, people wished me well. They seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing, felt the need for me to be a priest and, when I was ordained they assured me of their prayers, friendship and lasting support.
Most people went to Mass. Churches were well filed, if not full most of the time. Prayers were said and it seemed so important to keep the Parish together. I enjoyed those early days. I drove too fast and missed a lot of what was so powerfully on display. Good and decent people, doing the best they could for family, church and parish – for me; “the new curate!”
The rhyme was in full flow ……
“The Lord be with you”, I would say
“And also with you” as one we’d pray
Great to see you and so it was
And then to think we’d stand and pause
Sins confessed, Sacred Story shared
His Body for all, nothing spared.
First baptism, first wedding – such joyful occasions, shared easily with people oozing joy. Their new child, their early days of love, how easily to stand with them on days like that when photos were taken, words spoken and happiness owned the day. I don’t remember the First Confession I heard and often think that tells its own reassuring story of the sacredness of that Sacrament. Lines drawn in the sand, and no need to re-live or re-visit – that’s the way it’s meant to be, people move on renewed and refreshed having been forgiven by one in need too of God’s forgiveness. The rhythm of the Sacraments added its own shape to the rhyme.
He died in a tragic accident. His wife and children were devastated and the community drew to a halt. I went to the hospital for the removal and an elderly woman told me afterwards how sorry she felt for me in my short-sleeved shirt. I could as easily have been a boy in short trousers. Words were scarce and the rhyme was gone … it’s hard to speak in rhyme or think in rhyme when people’s hearts are broken. There were others like that, sudden deaths, car accidents, cancer and sickness, relationships ended, rows between people, loss of Faith, decline in practice, indifference, hostility, doubts and anger, nobody in Maynooth …. and still the whispered refrain “I the Lord of sea and sky, I have heard my people cry. I who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright …… Whom shall I send?”
Somewhere in and through all of this, unknown to myself, I leaned that …..
poems don’t have to rhyme but
they should speak
to a soul in need of Grace
a wound in need of healing
a heart in need of mending
a darkness in need of light
a thought in need
of sharing
And that’s what I want to say. Despite the difficulties and the sadness, the changes and the uncertainties, the Poem must go on. We must find time to share thoughts and place with one another, to bring people to that point where the Word is heard even if not fully grasped and prayers are prayed even in uncertainty.
I hope this piece isn’t out of place here – It’s just another angle, another verse in a lifelong poem, shared not by a poet but one who is privileged to share this place with all of you in a very special way and by one who depends so heavily on all of you for word and verse, song and tune, prayer and peace!
Today we had Mass in Kilmovee. We remembered there Joe Smyth, a former teacher and Community Man who was an inspirational figure, leaving quite a legacy behind. In recent years a Summer School, named in his memory, has taken place in the parish. It begins this week and we had a special remembrance at our Parish Mass for Joe and a prayer of blessing for the days to come. I decided to record a few bits from the Mass, including the few words I shared. This weekend’s Gospel speaks of the Lord sending out his disciples “in pairs” and encourages them to recognise people who make them welcome. I’ve been thinking about that in recent days. The Gospel speaks as well about the “rejoicing” of the disciples. I am going to include the few words here, they are not scripted but hopefully reflective of what I wanted to say. Maybe they have something to say to you, perhaps not. Either way, I’m going to share ….
In fairness, the title betrays my preference or prejudice, depending which way you look at it! I’d like to think Faith, but you can decide ….
On Friday I went to St Nathy’s College Hall to visit a Trade Exhibition of local businesses. Part of the #LetsConnect initiative, it was organised by the local branch of the Bank of Ireland and was, it has to be said, a very impressive display. Everything, almost without exception, under the roof was the work of local businesses and the goods and services displayed were all within easy access. The array was vast – sports from GAA to Cricket, electronics from light bulbs to high end technology, food, builders’ suppliers, fitted kitchens, car service and sales (I could go for a plug there but I won’t!!!), dress-making, model building, security, community services and much, much more. As I say, a very impressive display and I was glad to be there.
Mickey Harte, the Tyrone Manager, was the guest speaker and spoke of the need to support the local and recognise the gifts within our own community. He spoke too of there being no point getting too caught up in the rat-race of life and concluded, the problem with “rat-races” is that a rat always wins!! Good one Mickey:)
Anyway, back to the Sacred Heart. On Thursday last I went into one of those local shops and its from there I take these few lines.
It was Padraig Mulligan’s Shop, though the name over the door, like the shop itself, belongs to another generation, J Mulligan. Jimmy and his brother Paddy had two hardware shops in town and I remember both from my own childhood. There wasn’t much you could want that would not be found in either or both. I remember their funerals as well, the two brothers died within a day of each other, may they rest in peace.
Back to Padraig’s. I went in to pay for paint. Padraig was dealing with some customers – a man and his wife whose little boy ran round the shop with a wild abandon that I admired and envied at the same time. I’m not sure where he was in the world of imagination but Disney World would have had to work hard and pull out all the stops to compete. He ran past me several times, his speed and tone suggesting that my presence was of little if any relevance in his world. I couldn’t blame him for that. His mother’s call to come back was heard, responded to but short lived. As soon as she and her husband spoke again with Padraig, his circuit recommenced. He was enthralled by the place.
I decided to do the circuit too but at a slower pace. I’m not suggesting the boy and I saw the same things or at least saw them in the same way but I could see where his sense of adventure found its roots.
The first thing I saw was a new Circle Saw. The blade was thankfully covered with its safety shield but I thought how weary I’d be of using a Circle Saw. Another’s tool for sure. I thought nonetheless isn’t it great you could get that here. I saw a variety of lamps, some solar powered, others rechargeable, more for decoration and others for the day to day living of life. There were lovely galvanised buckets and I thought of getting one – and will – but not that day. There was cutlery, dinner services, cups, mugs, travel adapters, USB charges, bluetooth headphones, speakers, smartphone cases, there were paints for indoors and outdoors and all you’d need for their application. fireguards, fire sets, telephones, radios and countless more items. In the middle of them all, minding its own business you could say, was a new picture of The Sacred Heart. I smiled and thought you must feel at home here. More than smile, I rejoiced that in the midst of all that was on sale and considered necessary to stock was “the little bit of religion”. As necessary as any item in the shop. Of course if you bought it, the tools needed for hanging it could be found there too.
There’s also a bar in the shop. It sits quietly to the back and those who sit in it tend towards quietness as well. The man that serves the drink is now giving advice on paint and his advice is momentarily interrupted. There’s a man at the door who looks the worse of having had a bit too much to drink. I hear Padraig telling him; “The supplier didn’t come yet and I’m not sure he’ll be here this evening”. What could the man want that was not available in this shop? He wanted what the man behind the counter felt he did not need – a bottle of vodka. Again, I thought of the Sacred Heart in the midst of circle saws and clocks and felt He’d be happy to hear that response “insofar as you did it for one of these, you did it for me”.
The man left the shop, I’m sure, more than a little disappointed but likely to a safer place and in time to an appreciation that the bottle and he were better kept apart. I left the shop, glad of the local that is community and grateful that faith, like tradition, is handed through the generations.
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