"If you love me keep my commandments"
(I will be on retreat for the next few days so pardon the non-post)
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
5th Sunday of Easter
The Home Guard was an important part of Britain's Second World War experience. Men who could not serve in the armed forces were either conscripted or volunteered to serve their country in an improvised defensive body that patrolled the coast and countryside of Britain looking out for invasion. The body has been immortalised in the series Dad's Army, which, now old, never ceases to entertain. The reason I mention this crew is, recently I saw a documentary on them and the period of the early years of World War 2. When Britain feared invasion after the fall of France, there was almost hysteria in the country. The Army, it was believed was not ready to defend, the RAF was stretched to the limits. There were stories of infiltration behind the lines by the enemy. Hundreds of Germans and Austrians were interned in huge camps on the Isle of Mann and other remoter areas. There was an interesting comment that when a group of Austrians together the founded tea-shops and a university! Remarkably in the Austrian interment camps, which were secured streets in towns really, tea shops and schools offering courses in languages and philosophy emerged all over the place! That's by the way.
Why I refer to all is business is that one thing the Home Guard had to do in preparation for possible invasion was the removal all road-signs and confiscation of maps. There are iconic pictures of signs painted over and removed to prevent any possible invader finding there way around. If a spy dropped and did not know the lie of the land he could easily be caught, betrayed by the simple fact he did not know where he was going.
Directions are important. They are everywhere. If we are driving about in a place we do not know, once we have directions we will muddle through. A map, a sat-nav, AA-route Finder - all these things we use to find our bearings and get from A to B. Even if we end up going by C, D and E as long as we have directions we will get there.
Jesus tells us today that He is the Way, the Truth and Life. Not one without the other two, but all three; way, truth and life. He is the way that leads to truth and life, the life that way of truth, that truth, the way that brings life in all its fullness. The disciples were afraid that they would not find the way if He was taken from them. Jesus reminds them that in HIMSELF resides the way, the truth and the life.
Life can, by times, seem directionless. We work hard, we care for our families, we struggle and stumble and try to get through as best we can. Sometimes it can be very difficult. These days there seems to be obstacles at every turn, making this life of ours very much the valley of tears. The Lord reminds us today that to have seen Him is to have seen the Father. In our faith we have received the consolation of knowing that Christ is our guide - God Himself. The Apostles, His closest collaborators, on whom he laid the foundations of the Church by times lost sight of us. He gently, but firmly reminds us that He is the direction we must follow, for no one can come to the Father but through him.
As we continue to meet Him in the Scriptures and the Breaking of the Bread, as we follow Him as members of the Church, may Christ fill us with the knowledge of Himself. We must trust in Him, for He is truth itself. Christ does not make false promises, His word is good. Listening to Him, believing in Him, following what He teaches through the Church, will bring us to the Father. He is the way, He is the only way to life, to truth, to Heaven.
Why I refer to all is business is that one thing the Home Guard had to do in preparation for possible invasion was the removal all road-signs and confiscation of maps. There are iconic pictures of signs painted over and removed to prevent any possible invader finding there way around. If a spy dropped and did not know the lie of the land he could easily be caught, betrayed by the simple fact he did not know where he was going.
Directions are important. They are everywhere. If we are driving about in a place we do not know, once we have directions we will muddle through. A map, a sat-nav, AA-route Finder - all these things we use to find our bearings and get from A to B. Even if we end up going by C, D and E as long as we have directions we will get there.
Jesus tells us today that He is the Way, the Truth and Life. Not one without the other two, but all three; way, truth and life. He is the way that leads to truth and life, the life that way of truth, that truth, the way that brings life in all its fullness. The disciples were afraid that they would not find the way if He was taken from them. Jesus reminds them that in HIMSELF resides the way, the truth and the life.
Life can, by times, seem directionless. We work hard, we care for our families, we struggle and stumble and try to get through as best we can. Sometimes it can be very difficult. These days there seems to be obstacles at every turn, making this life of ours very much the valley of tears. The Lord reminds us today that to have seen Him is to have seen the Father. In our faith we have received the consolation of knowing that Christ is our guide - God Himself. The Apostles, His closest collaborators, on whom he laid the foundations of the Church by times lost sight of us. He gently, but firmly reminds us that He is the direction we must follow, for no one can come to the Father but through him.
As we continue to meet Him in the Scriptures and the Breaking of the Bread, as we follow Him as members of the Church, may Christ fill us with the knowledge of Himself. We must trust in Him, for He is truth itself. Christ does not make false promises, His word is good. Listening to Him, believing in Him, following what He teaches through the Church, will bring us to the Father. He is the way, He is the only way to life, to truth, to Heaven.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Blogger.com has been down
Dear Readers,
The internet provider for the blog has been down, and consequently my submission this week is only in bullet points: I know that I have been late in posting lately; I will do better:
This week is Good Shepherd Sunday and Vocations Sunday:
1. Don't be afraid to give an account of your own story. This is the one Sunday of the year, I believe, you are allowed to be personal; after all YOU have a vocation.
2. The Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep; there is an element of suffering in a true vocation.
3. Everyone has a vocation; the most important one is to be holy! (cf. Vatican II!)
4. Ask people to pray for vocations; no priests no Eucharist, no Eucharist no Church.....
5. If you are happy in your vocation let it be known. If you are not ask the Good Shepherd for strength.
6. If a young man/woman presented themselves with what they believed to be a vocation...what would you tell them?
7. The Vocation we all share is to proclaim the Good Shepherd is risen: Surrexit Pastor Bonus, Alleluia!
Two reflections:
The Beautiful Hands of a Priest.
We need them in life's early morning,
We need them again at its close;
We feel their warm clasp of true friendship,
We seek it while tasting life's woes.
When we come to this world we are sinful,
The greatest as well as the least.
And the hands that make us pure as angels
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.
At the altar each day we behold them,
And the hands of a king on his throne
Are not equal to them in their greatness
Their dignity stands alone.
For there in the stillness of morning
Ere the sun has emerged from the east,
There God rests between the pure fingers
Of the beautiful hands of a priest.
When we are tempted and wander
To pathways of shame and sin
'Tis the hand of a priest that absolve us.
Not once but again and again.
And when we are taking life's partner
Other hands may prepare us a feast
But the hands that will bless and unite us,
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.
God bless them and keep them all holy,
For the Host which their fingers caress,
What can a poor sinner do better
Than to ask Him who chose them to bless
When the death dews on our lids are falling,
May our courage and strength be increased
By seeing raised o'er us in blessing
The beautiful hands of a priest.
Thou Art a Priest Forever (Lacordaire)
To live in the midst of the world,
Without wishing its pleasures;
To be a member of each family,
Yet belonging to none;
To share all sufferings;
To penetrate all secrets;
To heal all wounds;
To go from men to God
And offer Him their Prayers;
To return from God to men
To bring pardon and hope;
To have a heart of fire for charity
And a heart of bronze for chastity;
To teach and to pardon,
Console and bless always--
What a glorious life!
And it is yours,
O Priest of Jesus Christ!
This is a nice recording of Orlando Lasso's 'Surrexit Pastor Bonus'
The internet provider for the blog has been down, and consequently my submission this week is only in bullet points: I know that I have been late in posting lately; I will do better:
This week is Good Shepherd Sunday and Vocations Sunday:
1. Don't be afraid to give an account of your own story. This is the one Sunday of the year, I believe, you are allowed to be personal; after all YOU have a vocation.
2. The Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep; there is an element of suffering in a true vocation.
3. Everyone has a vocation; the most important one is to be holy! (cf. Vatican II!)
4. Ask people to pray for vocations; no priests no Eucharist, no Eucharist no Church.....
5. If you are happy in your vocation let it be known. If you are not ask the Good Shepherd for strength.
6. If a young man/woman presented themselves with what they believed to be a vocation...what would you tell them?
7. The Vocation we all share is to proclaim the Good Shepherd is risen: Surrexit Pastor Bonus, Alleluia!
Two reflections:
The Beautiful Hands of a Priest.
We need them in life's early morning,
We need them again at its close;
We feel their warm clasp of true friendship,
We seek it while tasting life's woes.
When we come to this world we are sinful,
The greatest as well as the least.
And the hands that make us pure as angels
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.
At the altar each day we behold them,
And the hands of a king on his throne
Are not equal to them in their greatness
Their dignity stands alone.
For there in the stillness of morning
Ere the sun has emerged from the east,
There God rests between the pure fingers
Of the beautiful hands of a priest.
When we are tempted and wander
To pathways of shame and sin
'Tis the hand of a priest that absolve us.
Not once but again and again.
And when we are taking life's partner
Other hands may prepare us a feast
But the hands that will bless and unite us,
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.
God bless them and keep them all holy,
For the Host which their fingers caress,
What can a poor sinner do better
Than to ask Him who chose them to bless
When the death dews on our lids are falling,
May our courage and strength be increased
By seeing raised o'er us in blessing
The beautiful hands of a priest.
Thou Art a Priest Forever (Lacordaire)
To live in the midst of the world,
Without wishing its pleasures;
To be a member of each family,
Yet belonging to none;
To share all sufferings;
To penetrate all secrets;
To heal all wounds;
To go from men to God
And offer Him their Prayers;
To return from God to men
To bring pardon and hope;
To have a heart of fire for charity
And a heart of bronze for chastity;
To teach and to pardon,
Console and bless always--
What a glorious life!
And it is yours,
O Priest of Jesus Christ!
This is a nice recording of Orlando Lasso's 'Surrexit Pastor Bonus'
Sunday, May 8, 2011
4th Sunday of Easter (Good Shepherd Sunday)
Jesus said:
“Amen, amen, I say to you,
whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate
but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber.
But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep.
The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice,
as the shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
When he has driven out all his own,
he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him,
because they recognize his voice.
But they will not follow a stranger;
they will run away from him,
because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.”
Although Jesus used this figure of speech,
the Pharisees did not realize what he was trying to tell them.
“Amen, amen, I say to you,
whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate
but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber.
But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep.
The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice,
as the shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
When he has driven out all his own,
he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him,
because they recognize his voice.
But they will not follow a stranger;
they will run away from him,
because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.”
Although Jesus used this figure of speech,
the Pharisees did not realize what he was trying to tell them.
So Jesus said again, “Amen, amen, I say to you,
I am the gate for the sheep.
All who came before me are thieves and robbers,
but the sheep did not listen to them.
I am the gate.
Whoever enters through me will be saved,
and will come in and go out and find pasture.
A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy;
I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”
I am the gate for the sheep.
All who came before me are thieves and robbers,
but the sheep did not listen to them.
I am the gate.
Whoever enters through me will be saved,
and will come in and go out and find pasture.
A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy;
I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”
3rd Sunday of Easter
This the homily from Mass broadcast live on RTE Radio, as part of the annual conference of Irish Post Polio Support Group. The homily focused on the late effects of polio in the context of the Road to Emmaus.
************
My Dad is from Bray in Co Wicklow. When I was young, my brothers and I would have spent a lot of time there with my grandparents. They lived in a beautiful Victorian house facing a park, number 5 Sidmonton Square. Behind their house there was small street called Glenard Avenue. Now we used to refer to this little road as the ‘back lane’. I am not sure what the good citizens of Glenard would have made of us calling that! There was door in the garden wall that opened out into this little independent republic tucked away in the sea-side town. They were our second set of neighbors, our summer time family and they loved the three ruddy kids from country who would visit from time to time, shattering the tranquility of neighborhood with footballs and bikes and whatever else we could borrow from our Bray cousins during our holidays. One of the citizens of Glenard Ave was June Wheeler – June was a survivor of polio.
When she was young, like so many of her generation, she fell ill. After many many months in hospital she came home a very different person. I never knew her with braces or crutches, she had been sick along time even before my grandparents settled there. The scares of her illness however remained with her for life. June was special to us. She lived in a small house, filled with photos of another era, holy pictures and bits and pieces belonging to her deceased mother, each with their own place, each with their own story. Despite her frailty, her left arm was practically powerless, she worked every day in little shop on the Meath Road, the proprietors name to us was irrelevant – we only called it June’s. She cared for her mother until she died in her eighties – and only then dared to put the official name of the her house on the door – Victoria Villas – her mum came from firm republican stock!
June had two loves. Her little dog Skippy, who she walked slowly but determinedly every day in the Park in front of my Grandparents house and the Italian Capuchin saint, Padre Pio. She maintained that it was both of these that kept her going. Every month she organised a bus to the Capuchin’s in Church St, Dublin to a Mass for his canonization. Ironically, I learned of her death when I was on a trip to San Giovanni Rotondo, St Pio’s town, when I was a student in Rome.
Growing up June was one of those people who made mark on my life and lives my brothers and cousins. We knew nothing about polio. Unlike when my grandparents were young and starting their own family, polio was not threat and had for us had receded into history. For June and for many people like her, polio is as real now as it was then. Coming in and going out of her house, visiting her in the shop, playing with her dog, going on the bus Church St, we could not even begin to imagine what she had gone through as a child, as only survivors of polio can understand.
The Gospel today tells the story of the road to Emmaus. It’s a real Easter story. The two men, one called Clopas, the other unnamed had just experienced the most traumatic event of their lives. They had witnessed their dreams, their plans for the future, their hopes evaporate before their eyes. Jesus, whom they hoped would answer all their questions had been taken from them, crucified and buried. They felt as if they had no option, but to leave. They waited till the dust settled and on the first day of the week, they skipped town. They had heard foundationless rumors that he was still alive, but they knew best, he was gone, that was it. And as they were talking about it all writing two lines under their bad debt, the risen Jesus comes to them. He asks them what is wrong, and not without irony, he is told. Only after a long time can they see him for who he is. Their hearts burning as they go back to confirm what the others knew – Jesus is risen and had appeared to Simon.
What really strikes me about this story is the range of human emotion that is presented. Fear, maybe anger, cynicism, regret, then coupled with joy, love, passion and faith. It says that their hearts burned within them and when they realized what had just happened to them they ran back to Jerusalem in the dark – a dodgy enough endeavor. When illness comes our way, we can identify with the two men. Many of you who are listening today will have had the experience of a doctors office; being told news that changes everything. An accident, a diagnosis, results of test can burst us. In an instant dreams and hopes can be replaced by the fear of the future, uncertainly and darkness. The experience of post polio is certainly like that. When life seems to be just fine, everything seems to going well, another cross, another Calvary is added to what may already have been a life of challenge. Sometimes the painful memories of the past can return to play with us. Separation from loved ones, hard and difficult treatment, abuse (mentally, physically and sexually) can return to scourge us like the whips of Good Friday, refusing to let us heal.
Still, we are here. As we gather on this Easter morning, there is something at work in our lives, which the darkness can never over power. June Wheeler walked with me, part of the journey of my life and I have been changed forever. She showed me love and kindness and friendship that can never be quantified in a material way. Her polio never came to mind yet her experience of illness was a factor that made her who she was. It did not stop her being fully alive despite her physical limitations - so much so that her memory by times keeps me going in trials and difficulties.
Jesus walks with us in all things – good and bad. Some times we know he is there, sometimes he is hidden from us, we have to look hard to find him. Sometimes he is in the face of a friend, other times in the kind words of stranger. If you feel alone this morning, cut off from friends and family, if illness or disability or infirmity has stolen your dreams – during this Mass when we meet Jesus in the scripture and the breaking of the bread - let us walk with you. Be it polio or any other sickness, old age or any suffering of body, mind or spirit that is holding you back – stay with us for a while, for Christ is here. Everyone at some time or another feels the pain of loneliness and disappointment. Jesus tells us today that everything is okay – even apparent disaster.
As we gather in his name today let us allow him, tell us we do not suffer alone. He as gone before us, he knows our pain and he will make our hearts burn within us with his love – and the love that is in hearts of all people - if we but reach out and take it.
************
My Dad is from Bray in Co Wicklow. When I was young, my brothers and I would have spent a lot of time there with my grandparents. They lived in a beautiful Victorian house facing a park, number 5 Sidmonton Square. Behind their house there was small street called Glenard Avenue. Now we used to refer to this little road as the ‘back lane’. I am not sure what the good citizens of Glenard would have made of us calling that! There was door in the garden wall that opened out into this little independent republic tucked away in the sea-side town. They were our second set of neighbors, our summer time family and they loved the three ruddy kids from country who would visit from time to time, shattering the tranquility of neighborhood with footballs and bikes and whatever else we could borrow from our Bray cousins during our holidays. One of the citizens of Glenard Ave was June Wheeler – June was a survivor of polio.
When she was young, like so many of her generation, she fell ill. After many many months in hospital she came home a very different person. I never knew her with braces or crutches, she had been sick along time even before my grandparents settled there. The scares of her illness however remained with her for life. June was special to us. She lived in a small house, filled with photos of another era, holy pictures and bits and pieces belonging to her deceased mother, each with their own place, each with their own story. Despite her frailty, her left arm was practically powerless, she worked every day in little shop on the Meath Road, the proprietors name to us was irrelevant – we only called it June’s. She cared for her mother until she died in her eighties – and only then dared to put the official name of the her house on the door – Victoria Villas – her mum came from firm republican stock!
June had two loves. Her little dog Skippy, who she walked slowly but determinedly every day in the Park in front of my Grandparents house and the Italian Capuchin saint, Padre Pio. She maintained that it was both of these that kept her going. Every month she organised a bus to the Capuchin’s in Church St, Dublin to a Mass for his canonization. Ironically, I learned of her death when I was on a trip to San Giovanni Rotondo, St Pio’s town, when I was a student in Rome.
Growing up June was one of those people who made mark on my life and lives my brothers and cousins. We knew nothing about polio. Unlike when my grandparents were young and starting their own family, polio was not threat and had for us had receded into history. For June and for many people like her, polio is as real now as it was then. Coming in and going out of her house, visiting her in the shop, playing with her dog, going on the bus Church St, we could not even begin to imagine what she had gone through as a child, as only survivors of polio can understand.
The Gospel today tells the story of the road to Emmaus. It’s a real Easter story. The two men, one called Clopas, the other unnamed had just experienced the most traumatic event of their lives. They had witnessed their dreams, their plans for the future, their hopes evaporate before their eyes. Jesus, whom they hoped would answer all their questions had been taken from them, crucified and buried. They felt as if they had no option, but to leave. They waited till the dust settled and on the first day of the week, they skipped town. They had heard foundationless rumors that he was still alive, but they knew best, he was gone, that was it. And as they were talking about it all writing two lines under their bad debt, the risen Jesus comes to them. He asks them what is wrong, and not without irony, he is told. Only after a long time can they see him for who he is. Their hearts burning as they go back to confirm what the others knew – Jesus is risen and had appeared to Simon.
What really strikes me about this story is the range of human emotion that is presented. Fear, maybe anger, cynicism, regret, then coupled with joy, love, passion and faith. It says that their hearts burned within them and when they realized what had just happened to them they ran back to Jerusalem in the dark – a dodgy enough endeavor. When illness comes our way, we can identify with the two men. Many of you who are listening today will have had the experience of a doctors office; being told news that changes everything. An accident, a diagnosis, results of test can burst us. In an instant dreams and hopes can be replaced by the fear of the future, uncertainly and darkness. The experience of post polio is certainly like that. When life seems to be just fine, everything seems to going well, another cross, another Calvary is added to what may already have been a life of challenge. Sometimes the painful memories of the past can return to play with us. Separation from loved ones, hard and difficult treatment, abuse (mentally, physically and sexually) can return to scourge us like the whips of Good Friday, refusing to let us heal.
Jesus walks with us in all things – good and bad. Some times we know he is there, sometimes he is hidden from us, we have to look hard to find him. Sometimes he is in the face of a friend, other times in the kind words of stranger. If you feel alone this morning, cut off from friends and family, if illness or disability or infirmity has stolen your dreams – during this Mass when we meet Jesus in the scripture and the breaking of the bread - let us walk with you. Be it polio or any other sickness, old age or any suffering of body, mind or spirit that is holding you back – stay with us for a while, for Christ is here. Everyone at some time or another feels the pain of loneliness and disappointment. Jesus tells us today that everything is okay – even apparent disaster.
As we gather in his name today let us allow him, tell us we do not suffer alone. He as gone before us, he knows our pain and he will make our hearts burn within us with his love – and the love that is in hearts of all people - if we but reach out and take it.
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