Week ending 26th April 2011 www.tourmakeady.com
“He is risen.” Those words have raised many hearts in the past two thousand years. Throw in a few Old Testament Alleluias and the joys of Easter are celebrated with gusto. We toss around the word “unbelievable” nowadays to describe anything vaguely surprising. The idea of someone rising from the dead is very close to really being unbelievable, yet billions of people in recent days celebrated the resurrection of Jesus Christ in most parts of the world. Even people with little attachment to formal religion tend to be touched in some way by the magic of Easter.
Magic may not be the right word but it is not the wrong word either. A story which has a young man being hung out to dry on a cross on a Friday, flitting around like a butterfly just escaped from its cocoon on the following Sunday has a quality of the Houdinis about it, only better. It is some jump from the ridiculed to the sublime in a matter of days. Not easy to believe but not too difficult either when we take into account the person involved. For followers of Jesus it has a logic of its own. How could you keep a good man down? It was not just the rock at the mouth of the tomb that was blown away. We all were.
Belief in the resurrection of Jesus is a matter of faith, but it is not without evidence that could stand up in court or in some kind of tribunal of inquiry. There is the matter of the empty tomb. “Who moved the stone?” was the title of a book on this subject that I read many years ago. A good barrister would suggest that anyone might have removed it. As for the angels reported to have been seen inside, he or she (the Attorney) would probably decide to “rest my case” and leave it to the jury to decide on that one.
Then there are those lovely stories which are read in churches on the Sundays after Easter, stories of doubting Thomas and of the two disciples on the way to Emmaus, not to speak of the one about Jesus having a fish barbecue prepared on the shore when his followere returned from a fishing trip. (The chippers of the world should have tried for a mention in that story) Proof of a kind, but more proof of the possibilities invoved in the differences between the glory of the resurrection body and our earthed bodies in this life, bogged down as we are by the weight of the world and the confinements of space and time. Still a gentle nudge for the imaginitive who wonder about after-life.
The nearest we have to proof of the resurrection of Jesus is the change that came over his followers between Good Friday and Pentecost Sunday. Something happened that changed the craven cowards of Calvary (most of them chickened out on that journey) and the confident preachers of Pentecost, willing not to just live but also to die for their faith, something most of them did. This was in some ways the real resurrection, the one that changed cowards into champions of a faith, faith forged in brokeness and betrayal, fear and trembling, and yet un-put-down-able. He is risen. Alleluia.
Magic may not be the right word but it is not the wrong word either. A story which has a young man being hung out to dry on a cross on a Friday, flitting around like a butterfly just escaped from its cocoon on the following Sunday has a quality of the Houdinis about it, only better. It is some jump from the ridiculed to the sublime in a matter of days. Not easy to believe but not too difficult either when we take into account the person involved. For followers of Jesus it has a logic of its own. How could you keep a good man down? It was not just the rock at the mouth of the tomb that was blown away. We all were.
Belief in the resurrection of Jesus is a matter of faith, but it is not without evidence that could stand up in court or in some kind of tribunal of inquiry. There is the matter of the empty tomb. “Who moved the stone?” was the title of a book on this subject that I read many years ago. A good barrister would suggest that anyone might have removed it. As for the angels reported to have been seen inside, he or she (the Attorney) would probably decide to “rest my case” and leave it to the jury to decide on that one.
Then there are those lovely stories which are read in churches on the Sundays after Easter, stories of doubting Thomas and of the two disciples on the way to Emmaus, not to speak of the one about Jesus having a fish barbecue prepared on the shore when his followere returned from a fishing trip. (The chippers of the world should have tried for a mention in that story) Proof of a kind, but more proof of the possibilities invoved in the differences between the glory of the resurrection body and our earthed bodies in this life, bogged down as we are by the weight of the world and the confinements of space and time. Still a gentle nudge for the imaginitive who wonder about after-life.
The nearest we have to proof of the resurrection of Jesus is the change that came over his followers between Good Friday and Pentecost Sunday. Something happened that changed the craven cowards of Calvary (most of them chickened out on that journey) and the confident preachers of Pentecost, willing not to just live but also to die for their faith, something most of them did. This was in some ways the real resurrection, the one that changed cowards into champions of a faith, faith forged in brokeness and betrayal, fear and trembling, and yet un-put-down-able. He is risen. Alleluia.
Week ending !9th April 2011 www.tourmakeady.com
Forty Easters ago I got my first taste of Holy Week ceremonies as an ordained minister, and it was in the parish in which I am now priesting. I went as a deacon to Cill Chiaráin in Carna parish in 1971, a few months before being ordained priest. I wanted to experience the ceremonies in the Irish language in which I was anything but fluent. There was an element of being thrown in at the deep end about it as the local priest had the flu and I found myself struggling through readings in a language which I the stranger did not know. It was a good baptism in both language and ceremonies in that I was celebrating the passion and death of Christ on my own the following year in Irish, on the Aran islands of Inis Oirr and Inis Meáin in which I had been curate since the previous September.
I have mentioned in the past that the revival of the Easter ceremonies in their present form in the mid-fiffties was one of the best things done by the Roman Catholic church in the last century. They have been remarkably well attended since. Last year I felt that there was a particularly strong turnout at a time the church was reeling from the effects of the Ryan and Murphy reports. The Cloyne report will probably have a similar effect this year. People will again be shocked and horrified. This time last year it seemed as if what children had suffered at the hands of some priests and religious was being linked to the passion of Christ. It was also as if people were showing that their faith in Jesus, whatever about the church, was not destroyed by the scandals. The kissing of the cross on Good Friday seemed to have been done with a special fervour.
My first experience of the Easter ceremonies was as a ten year old Mass server in Belcarra church. There would be a big wash-up after a day spreading cowdung in drills being prepared for potato setting, and off we would go to the church for ceremonies that were as new to the priests as to the people. Our own curate, Father Tommy Gibbons was usually joined by members of the staff of the nearby SMA college in Ballinafad at a time when clergy were anything but scarce. Space was made inside the altar rails for Minister for Lands and Clann na Talmhain Party leader, Joe Blowick TD. It had been reported on the radio that Archbishop John McQuaid had given similar honour to Taoiseach John A Costello in Dublin’s Pro-Cathedral. Anything Dublin could do, Belcarra could do better. At least our man was a Party leader. Mr Costello, although Taoiseach, was not. Recent remarks by Dr Garret Fitzgerald suggest he was not even a paid up member of Fine Gael.
I always enjoy Easter but none more so than when it is all over. There is always an underlying fear that I will make a mess of things in that readings and prayers are unfamiliar as a year has past since last dealing with them. The nerves leave when I remind myself that it is not about me. Whatever I do, or however I mess up will not prevent Jesus from rising from the dead. What I like best about it is that even though we know the story will have a happy ending, many of us still get caught up in the emotion of it all, a good person wrongly convicted and put to death after a night of needless and senseless torture and violence. Worse things have happened in the world, of course, but the idea of the one who links us closest to God ending up like that makes Good Friday one of the saddest days for believers. It also makes Easter Day one of the best.
I have mentioned in the past that the revival of the Easter ceremonies in their present form in the mid-fiffties was one of the best things done by the Roman Catholic church in the last century. They have been remarkably well attended since. Last year I felt that there was a particularly strong turnout at a time the church was reeling from the effects of the Ryan and Murphy reports. The Cloyne report will probably have a similar effect this year. People will again be shocked and horrified. This time last year it seemed as if what children had suffered at the hands of some priests and religious was being linked to the passion of Christ. It was also as if people were showing that their faith in Jesus, whatever about the church, was not destroyed by the scandals. The kissing of the cross on Good Friday seemed to have been done with a special fervour.
My first experience of the Easter ceremonies was as a ten year old Mass server in Belcarra church. There would be a big wash-up after a day spreading cowdung in drills being prepared for potato setting, and off we would go to the church for ceremonies that were as new to the priests as to the people. Our own curate, Father Tommy Gibbons was usually joined by members of the staff of the nearby SMA college in Ballinafad at a time when clergy were anything but scarce. Space was made inside the altar rails for Minister for Lands and Clann na Talmhain Party leader, Joe Blowick TD. It had been reported on the radio that Archbishop John McQuaid had given similar honour to Taoiseach John A Costello in Dublin’s Pro-Cathedral. Anything Dublin could do, Belcarra could do better. At least our man was a Party leader. Mr Costello, although Taoiseach, was not. Recent remarks by Dr Garret Fitzgerald suggest he was not even a paid up member of Fine Gael.
I always enjoy Easter but none more so than when it is all over. There is always an underlying fear that I will make a mess of things in that readings and prayers are unfamiliar as a year has past since last dealing with them. The nerves leave when I remind myself that it is not about me. Whatever I do, or however I mess up will not prevent Jesus from rising from the dead. What I like best about it is that even though we know the story will have a happy ending, many of us still get caught up in the emotion of it all, a good person wrongly convicted and put to death after a night of needless and senseless torture and violence. Worse things have happened in the world, of course, but the idea of the one who links us closest to God ending up like that makes Good Friday one of the saddest days for believers. It also makes Easter Day one of the best.
Week ending 12th April 2011 www.tourmakeady.com
Stress testing has
been in the news quite a lot lately, and it got me to thinking of the stress on
the apostles of Jesus in the lead-up to the first Easter. As the group’s
banker, Judas Iscariot was being tested by the local civil and religious
authorities to accept a bailout of thirty pieces of silver. All he had to do in
return was to deliver his leader and friend, Jesus of Nazareth into the hands
of the law. Imagine the negotiation:
Judas: “I can’t do it. You are just going to kill him.”
Negotiator: “Don’t be ridiculous. We just want to ask him a few questions.”
Judas: “You will still kill him, no matter what he answers.”
Negotiator: “We are civilsed people. He will get a fair trial.”
Judas: He was always good to me. I don’t know why I’m even discussing this”
Negotiator: Because your conscience is getting at you. Because he is questioning everything we believe in. He is flouting the law of the sabbath. He is mixing with all kind of desirables. He needs to be taken out.”
Judas: “He has healed the sick, cured the lame, given sight to the blind…”
Negotiator: “He has pulled the wool over a lot of eyes, you mean.”
Judas: “How can you expect me to betray my leader, my friend?”
Negotiator: “Because of your faith. Because it is the right thing to do. And there is a little nest-egg in it for you.”
Judas: “I’m not doing it for the money. I don’t want the money.”
Negotiator: “Of course you don’t. The reward is there. I can’t keep it. Look on it as redundancy money.”
We know that Judas failed the stress test, as did Peter when he denied Jesus three times. All of the other apostles did too, except John who had enough courage to follow him to the foot of the cross, with his mother, Mary and some of her friends.
We sometimes think that things are bad for followers of Jesus in this day and age, but that cross on Calvary Hill must have been a particularly lonely place, with just a handful of friends and followers left from the crowds that had rushed from place to place to see and hear him, not to speak of those who had spread coats and palms on the road as he entered Jerusalem on the back of a donkey.
I think that it would amaze Jesus that anyone would pass the stress tests of life or religion. He is aware of our humanity more than anything else. It is what he likes best about us. It is why he decided to join us. He wanted to taste that freedom, that take it or leave it feeling, to show that “take it” was the best choice, doing good the best option. We would stumble and fail, grumble and gripe. We would mess up our stress tests but on balance stay on the right road. And even if we didn’t he would still love us as he continued to love Peter, Andrew, Thomas, Judas and the rest of them
The biggest Easter stress test was probably in the garden of Gethsemene in which Jesus sweated blood in fear and trembling as he thought of his impending death and the manner of it. Like the rest of us he wanted to go for the easy option, to “let this chalice (of pain and suffering) pass” His prayer was not answered in the way he wanted. In his loneliness and desolation he questioned God: “Why have you forsaken me?” It was as if God himself had failed his stress test. But even then it was to God he surrendered himself: “Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.”
The next stress test was on the rock at the entrance to his tomb. More about that later.
Judas: “I can’t do it. You are just going to kill him.”
Negotiator: “Don’t be ridiculous. We just want to ask him a few questions.”
Judas: “You will still kill him, no matter what he answers.”
Negotiator: “We are civilsed people. He will get a fair trial.”
Judas: He was always good to me. I don’t know why I’m even discussing this”
Negotiator: Because your conscience is getting at you. Because he is questioning everything we believe in. He is flouting the law of the sabbath. He is mixing with all kind of desirables. He needs to be taken out.”
Judas: “He has healed the sick, cured the lame, given sight to the blind…”
Negotiator: “He has pulled the wool over a lot of eyes, you mean.”
Judas: “How can you expect me to betray my leader, my friend?”
Negotiator: “Because of your faith. Because it is the right thing to do. And there is a little nest-egg in it for you.”
Judas: “I’m not doing it for the money. I don’t want the money.”
Negotiator: “Of course you don’t. The reward is there. I can’t keep it. Look on it as redundancy money.”
We know that Judas failed the stress test, as did Peter when he denied Jesus three times. All of the other apostles did too, except John who had enough courage to follow him to the foot of the cross, with his mother, Mary and some of her friends.
We sometimes think that things are bad for followers of Jesus in this day and age, but that cross on Calvary Hill must have been a particularly lonely place, with just a handful of friends and followers left from the crowds that had rushed from place to place to see and hear him, not to speak of those who had spread coats and palms on the road as he entered Jerusalem on the back of a donkey.
I think that it would amaze Jesus that anyone would pass the stress tests of life or religion. He is aware of our humanity more than anything else. It is what he likes best about us. It is why he decided to join us. He wanted to taste that freedom, that take it or leave it feeling, to show that “take it” was the best choice, doing good the best option. We would stumble and fail, grumble and gripe. We would mess up our stress tests but on balance stay on the right road. And even if we didn’t he would still love us as he continued to love Peter, Andrew, Thomas, Judas and the rest of them
The biggest Easter stress test was probably in the garden of Gethsemene in which Jesus sweated blood in fear and trembling as he thought of his impending death and the manner of it. Like the rest of us he wanted to go for the easy option, to “let this chalice (of pain and suffering) pass” His prayer was not answered in the way he wanted. In his loneliness and desolation he questioned God: “Why have you forsaken me?” It was as if God himself had failed his stress test. But even then it was to God he surrendered himself: “Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.”
The next stress test was on the rock at the entrance to his tomb. More about that later.
Week ending 5th April 2011 www.tourmakeady.com
It is not that I have forgotten how to count, but a reminder that I am more than six months in Carna came as somewhat of a surprise to me. It came in the form of a letter from An Post telling me that the six month arrangement to send on my mail from Tourmakeady had now run out. Another month and more has slipped by since. Before I know it I will be wondering where the year has gone. Time seems to pass even more quickly and pleasantly during the kind of beautiful weather we have had towards the end of March.
I have mentioned in the past that in my experience it takes six months or more for a priest to move his head from one parish to another. The rest of him has left, but subconsciously the head and maybe the heart have not gone all the way. The goodbyes have long been said. The physical move has been made. The priest finds his way around a new area, gets to separate one boreen and one village from another. Getting to know the people and who lives in which house is a slower process, but that knowledge will come with time. At the back of it all the clergyperson is still dreaming the previous parish.
I have always liked the title of a church diary: “The Rhythm Of The Seasons” and I think that more than anything else it is the rhythm of the seasons of the church’s year that ground a priest in his new parish. We have probably not moved psychologically from one parish to another until we have experienced November Masses, Christmas, Saint Bridget’s Day, Ash Wednesday, Saint Patrick’s Day, Easter and a few feastdays of local saints for the first time with the people of a new parish. Christenings, funerals, stations and house Masses, weddings and other social functions give us a feel for the traditions and history of a different area.
The past has been described as another country but it is never a country far away. That said, there is no need for the past and present to be in competition with one another. We live in the present and that is where things are at now, but the memories of previous parishioners and places live on. I am not one for rushing back at the drop of a hat to try and relive past experiences. Apart from being unfair to the new priest in the area, the constraints of time, travel and parish duties make long return journeys virtually impossible.
Letting go and moving on are part and parcel of life’s journey. Leaving a comfort zone is never easy, but is usually wakes us up and does us good. The challenges involved are often exciting and life affirming. Nobody is indispensible. A new broom sweeps new vibes into a place. The past has not been lost or forgotten. I certainly carry all my previous parishes with me in one of the warmer parts of my heart. I would not exchange those experiences for anything.
Now where did I say that I left my head?
,
I have mentioned in the past that in my experience it takes six months or more for a priest to move his head from one parish to another. The rest of him has left, but subconsciously the head and maybe the heart have not gone all the way. The goodbyes have long been said. The physical move has been made. The priest finds his way around a new area, gets to separate one boreen and one village from another. Getting to know the people and who lives in which house is a slower process, but that knowledge will come with time. At the back of it all the clergyperson is still dreaming the previous parish.
I have always liked the title of a church diary: “The Rhythm Of The Seasons” and I think that more than anything else it is the rhythm of the seasons of the church’s year that ground a priest in his new parish. We have probably not moved psychologically from one parish to another until we have experienced November Masses, Christmas, Saint Bridget’s Day, Ash Wednesday, Saint Patrick’s Day, Easter and a few feastdays of local saints for the first time with the people of a new parish. Christenings, funerals, stations and house Masses, weddings and other social functions give us a feel for the traditions and history of a different area.
The past has been described as another country but it is never a country far away. That said, there is no need for the past and present to be in competition with one another. We live in the present and that is where things are at now, but the memories of previous parishioners and places live on. I am not one for rushing back at the drop of a hat to try and relive past experiences. Apart from being unfair to the new priest in the area, the constraints of time, travel and parish duties make long return journeys virtually impossible.
Letting go and moving on are part and parcel of life’s journey. Leaving a comfort zone is never easy, but is usually wakes us up and does us good. The challenges involved are often exciting and life affirming. Nobody is indispensible. A new broom sweeps new vibes into a place. The past has not been lost or forgotten. I certainly carry all my previous parishes with me in one of the warmer parts of my heart. I would not exchange those experiences for anything.
Now where did I say that I left my head?
,