by Vincent | Apr 19, 2015 | General Interest, Reflections, Religion, Poetry
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!
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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,
a young Black servant intently listening.
swings round and sees
the light around him
and is sure.
by Vincent | Apr 18, 2015 | General Interest, Reflections, Religion
“The disciples told their story …..” There’s something fresh and wonderful about that. It’s like being at a movie or out for a meal and wanting to share that moment with others. We’re almost not happy until we get a commitment from the ones being told – “Yeah, I must go to see that. I look forward to going there sometime … thanks for letting me know”. The story they told was one of a personal encounter with Jesus. It was an encounter, like many of the best ones, which took them by surprise. He was quite literally the last person they expected to see. How many times had they told and re-told that story? “We were walking along. It was a long and difficult walk. Our hearts were broken and we just couldn’t get our heads around the thought that he was gone. Then this man was with us. He asked us what we were talking about. Oddly enough it didn’t seem wrong for him to ask and we began to tell him. The road seemed shorter and the conversation went to a place we’d not expected. Our hearts burned within us. And then, we finished up in a restaurant and he gave us broken bread … that’s the moment we knew who he was …..”
We need somehow, with these men, to make this story our own. We need that encounter with Jesus. We need to feel him beside us, hear the sound of his footsteps on the gravel of our roads too. For that to happen we need to be talking about our faith. It was in response to their faith-based conversation, the Lord entered their journey. If they’d been talking about sport, last night’s episode of our favourite soap or catching up on someone’s latest rant on some topic removed from them, how difficult it would have been to enter their moment. But no, they were talking about their faith being shaken, their Lord being taken and he heard where they were and it was only natural that he’d join them. There’s a message in all of this for us today. If we want him to talk with us, we must be prepared to talk about him – to talk with him, walk with him, sit at table with him and allow ourselves be nourished by the broken bread that is his body.
He does it again, just now. As they’re telling their story he walks into their midst. He assures them he is flesh. He’s not at some sort of heavenly remove or untouchable. On the contrary he says that they should touch him, feel the very essence of him and be convinced and hear again the message that all he said, all that was written about him had to be fulfilled and has to be fulfilled. The Lord desperately wants us to know He’s here for us and with us. There’s no high level of security keeping us at a pre-determined remove. That’s one of the things we like so much about Pope Francis – his gift of connect. He knows his place is among people and he knows this is where the Lord wants him to be.
Where to for all of us today on the road from Emmaus? The road to it was one thing but the real difference is made on the road taken afterwards. The same can be said of our coming to Mass today. Where to from here? How ready are we to talk about him as we go? How open are we to his joining in our conversation? How tuned in are we to the reality that unless we are prepared to talk about him and to him, it’s very difficult for him to enter our journey?
You are witnesses to this!
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Homilies for April – “The Furrow” – Vincent Sherlock
by Vincent | Apr 11, 2015 | General Interest, Reflections, Religion
There’s a sense of church at its best going on this weekend. It’s that early enthusiastic excitement of a new relationship or hobby. We’ve got all the gear and are ready to spend ourselves fully in the pursuit of love of person, sport or activity. We couldn’t imagine missing a meeting, training session or opportunity to progress our interest. “The whole group of believers was united, heart and soul..”, “the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord with great power …” Certainly it was a great time to be alive in the wake of a wake and the awe-filled wonder of an emptied tomb.
We move then to John’s letter and he laying it on the line for us. Commandments and the keeping of them are discussed. Recipes are given for overcoming the world. “Only the one who believes that Jesus is the son of God” can overcome the world. It looks like the cycling gear, the fitness regime, the daily texts or calls of friendship and love are gathering a bit of dessert dust.
Enter Thomas – the Twin! Rather don’t enter, for he wasn’t there when the Lord came. He had his doubts much and all as he wanted to believe. He knew the marks had to be left on Jesus and unless he could see them, touch them (maybe even weep because of them) he could not believe. Yes, he’d heard the tomb was empty. He’d heard of the Emmaus conversation and broken bread but it wasn’t sinking in. “Unless I see the holes that the nails made in his hands ….”
“Peace be with you”, Jesus had told them but Thomas wasn’t there to hear. He had to rely on others and he found it difficult to accept their version of events. Chances are he wanted to but couldn’t. What did the others lack in their telling that stalled the transmission of Jesus’ message? “Where did we go wrong?” parents sometimes wonder when their children give up on the faith. Sometimes we priests wonder too when people seem to drift away from church and practice. The closer people can be to the direct word the better. Hearsay evidence is only part of the story. It’s a pity Thomas wasn’t there with the others, even in the confusion of that room. Maybe that’s why the church places such strong emphasis on the weekly call to Sunday worship – so that it’s not hearsay for people but first hand.
Despite all this Thomas had his moment. Wounded flesh touched, he came to know the man he had walked and worked with for three years in a way that hadn’t fully dawned before. Yes he knew him as friend, one for whom he had mourned, but more than that, he recognised him as “My Lord and my God”. It’s appropriate that in Ireland we have made these words our own. God is recognised.
For this, Thomas gets the title “The doubting Thomas” and it seems so unfair to label him – anyone for that matter, based on a single event. Thomas asked the question and received an answer that took us to a deeper place. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that. “I’m going to prepare a place for you”, said Jesus, “and after I’ve prepared it you can come with me. You know the way to the place where I am going”. They hadn’t a clue but stood there and said nothing. Not Thomas though – “We don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way …” and this led to the words that are central to all we’re about today; “I am the way, the truth and the life, no one can come to the Father, except through me”.
Good man Thomas! From hearsay, to recognition and the new enthusiasm that is Faith in action.
by Vincent | Apr 11, 2015 | General Interest, Reflections, Religion
by Vincent | Apr 5, 2015 | General Interest, Reflections, Religion
I heard a story once shared by the late Archbishop Joe Cassidy that might have a place in today’s liturgy.
He spoke about his childhood days in Charlestown, Co. Mayo and his love for the cinema. He often referred to this as the escape into another world that we all look for from time to time. Going to the cinema was a highlight of his young life. To get there, the saving had to be done. Coins gathered and set aside to secure the ticket. One way of gathering coins was by collecting jam jars and returning them to the shop. He said he recalled one day that he wanted to go to the cinema but he could not find a jam jar. He went to his mother’s cupboard in the kitchen and saw there a jar and he knew that if he brought it to the local shop, the money received would secure his ticket. There was one problem. The jar was half full. He said he looked at it for a while, wrestled with the temptation and then closed the door, leaving the jar on its shelf. He said he learned a lesson that day. The jar was no use to him, unless it was empty. Joe shared this story on an Easter Sunday morning and added, “Neither is the tomb”!
Recently I met a priest who seemed a bit fed-up. I looked at him and said “They found the empty tomb” – in fairness, he smiled and a chat followed. Like the women and men in the Gospel story of this Easter Day, we can fail to understand the meaning of the Scriptures that he must rise from the dead. Our focus can be on the sealed tomb – its heavy stone in place and our questions around “who will roll away the stone?” rather than coming to an acceptance that the stone “which was very big”, had been rolled away by the Power of God’s Hand.
Our world, both global and personal, can all too easily be plunged into darkness and despair. Recent times have brought us face to face with devastating cruelty. People’s lives discarded with a barbarity matched only by the accompanying and stomach churning use of social media. This and so much more serves only to drive deep into the hearts and flesh of family and friends, the coldness of the hammered nails. There are as well and more local to us perhaps, personal battles and demons that crowd in on us and block the light. All too well, we know the confusion of those who loved Jesus as they watched the skies darken over Calvary.
It is perhaps in that very awareness we find again the light. As he knew what it was to suffer, to watch pain scrape its way across the faces of those he loved, to be misunderstood and sacrificed – it is here we meet God with us – the “Emmanuel” of Christmas and with us he says “this too will pass”. There is a today in all of this and a Paradise. There will be a stone rolled back, an empty tomb and a ticket secured.
A ticket – not to a cinema, long closed, in Charlestown but to an eternity ever open by the one who conquered Calvary, rested in the borrowed tomb and left behind the chains of despair and the taunts of brokenness. “He is not here. He is risen!”.
We are here and, with Him, we are risen. Light the light then. It’s so much better than cursing the darkness.
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From “THE FURROW” “Homilies for April” (Vincent Sherlock)
