Week ending 26th.
“Sweating for Jesus” is a term I have reason to use from time to time. It refers to those days I say Mass in heavy vestments in the kind of summer temperatures we have had off and on this year. I virtually become a walking sauna on such occasions. I emerge afterwards dripping and smelling in the sacristy. I try to stand as far away as possible from people who have some business to attend to but who cannot help sniffing the polluted air as they wonder how many years it is since one of my predecesors was buried under the floor of the church. I try, usually unsuccessfully, to pretend that this is the odour of sanctity as the numbers visiting on such occasions trickle to a halt. The first winter’s frost seems to be their signal to return as the air is clean and crisp again and the vestments are back from the cleaners. On busier days I wonder does the Pope ever have four, five or six Masses in a day. How about Cardinals or bishops? Are they aware of the workloads of their clergy? Perhaps we do not think enough of their workloads either. The more prestigious their positions, the lesser the sympathy we give them, I suppose. Priests can of course refuse to give in to all of their parishioners wishes, but from my point of view, I am happy to do what they want, within reason. Saying Mass is not a chore for me. It is an honour and a privilege. That is what my heart and my head say. The old legs do not always agree, as it is the standing that takes its toll. The bottom line is that it is good to have the health and the inclination to do it. The mostly good weather we enjoyed for much of this summer helped greatly, especially for outdoor ceremonies.
Sweating season seems to coincide with bat season, as flying black visitors invade the roof space of most of the churches I have worked in, at this time of the year. As a protected wildlife species there is not much that can be done about them except live with them and clean us whatever droppings come from on high. The bats usually only come out at night, although an occasional one flits through people’s airspace from time to time like an out of control holy spirit. Many people fear them crashing into their eyes or getting them caught in their hair. A consultant from the wildlife services eased people’s worries here in Carna a couple of years by pointing out that bats tend to only appear in public while their young are born and growing up. They seem to go into hibernation for the rest of the time and are of no bother to anybody. To mangle a line of a song: “Bat times will come again” (not no more) just next year.
By the time these few words are published Leaving Cert results will have been published and hopefully fairly sensibly celebrated for all the right reasons, Young people and their parent’s thoughts will turn to points, colleges and courses of various kinds. It is everybody’s hope that by the time qualifications are achieved and trades apprenticed, the country will be back on its feet to the extent that work will be available and at least some of those who have emigrated will be returning. Those of us who have lived through a number of recessions feel that this one too will have to end sometime – the sooner the better.
Sweating season seems to coincide with bat season, as flying black visitors invade the roof space of most of the churches I have worked in, at this time of the year. As a protected wildlife species there is not much that can be done about them except live with them and clean us whatever droppings come from on high. The bats usually only come out at night, although an occasional one flits through people’s airspace from time to time like an out of control holy spirit. Many people fear them crashing into their eyes or getting them caught in their hair. A consultant from the wildlife services eased people’s worries here in Carna a couple of years by pointing out that bats tend to only appear in public while their young are born and growing up. They seem to go into hibernation for the rest of the time and are of no bother to anybody. To mangle a line of a song: “Bat times will come again” (not no more) just next year.
By the time these few words are published Leaving Cert results will have been published and hopefully fairly sensibly celebrated for all the right reasons, Young people and their parent’s thoughts will turn to points, colleges and courses of various kinds. It is everybody’s hope that by the time qualifications are achieved and trades apprenticed, the country will be back on its feet to the extent that work will be available and at least some of those who have emigrated will be returning. Those of us who have lived through a number of recessions feel that this one too will have to end sometime – the sooner the better.
Week ending 19th.
It was a couch potato’s dream, a Sunday afternoon with my day’s work done, Galway playing Kerry and Mayo against Cork, both live on TV. Still, I didn’t have a good feeling about it, so I headed for the hills. What was I to do here in Conamara if Galway won and Mayo lost? Worse still if Galway were to beat Mayo by a point in an upcoming All Ireland semi-final? I would never hear the end of it. Instead of burying my head in the sand of one of the seven local beaches I set out for the Mám Éan pilgrimage site in the Maam-Turk mountains, to join those who had climbed from the Mayo and Galway approaches to take part in Stations of the cross followed by Mass on an altar with one of the best views in the world.
The chief celebrant of the Mass was Archbishop Michael Neary of Tuam;s secretary, Fr. Fintan Monahan who has taken over the role previously held by Fr. Micheál McGréil SJ, who revived the pilgrimage site more than thirty years ago. Other concelebrants were the Parish Priest of Athenry, Fr. Brendan Kilcoyne, and an tAthair Seán Ó Conghaile from Inverin, a Columban Father who is returning to his base in South Korea after holidays with his family as you read this. Rosmuc priest Fr. Pádraig Consandine was to join us later in the evening. Fr. McGréil remained at the bottom of the mountain but intends to climb again next year after hip operations. Like the rest of the Jesuits I’m sure the prayers of Pope Francis will help to see him preach again from his beloved Mám Éan.
I may have escaped from the television but did not escape from the radio. As the Stations of the cross proceeded I heard a loud whisper between the third and the fourth Station: “Galway are getting hammered.” A pilgrim with a phone had one ear to heaven and another to earth. The Way of the Cross continued, Father Fintan commenting in Irish and English on each Station, with Joe John Mac An Iomaire from Cill Chiaráin, one of the best sean-nós singers in Ireland singing a verse from the haunting “Caoineadh na dTrí Muire” as the group moved from one place to the next.
“Is this the little son I carried for three seasons?” is one of the questions posed by Mary as she laments her dead son, followed by “Óchón agus Óchón ó,” echoing poignantly through the mountains.
It was just before the fourteenth Station that the whisper came again: “Galway are only two points behind – they are after getting two goals.” A different kind of resurrection seemed to be on the cards. The whole scene reminded me in some ways of a biblical occasion. The clothes were of course different, as were the i-phones and the digital cameras, but a religious occasion on a mountainside with a view of lakes and far-off seas seemed able to fit in well with many a gospel story. So did the distractions, the interruptions, the comments on the match. Story tellers like Matthew, Mark, Luke or John would have enjoyed it, faith in the market-place, people with different agendas, fingers in different pies at the same time, touching the hem of a garment or wondering about matches or burning bondholders (holding back the tribute to Caesar) All human life...
The end of a perfect day – put up your tired pilgrim feet and watch Mayo win their match by a point.
The chief celebrant of the Mass was Archbishop Michael Neary of Tuam;s secretary, Fr. Fintan Monahan who has taken over the role previously held by Fr. Micheál McGréil SJ, who revived the pilgrimage site more than thirty years ago. Other concelebrants were the Parish Priest of Athenry, Fr. Brendan Kilcoyne, and an tAthair Seán Ó Conghaile from Inverin, a Columban Father who is returning to his base in South Korea after holidays with his family as you read this. Rosmuc priest Fr. Pádraig Consandine was to join us later in the evening. Fr. McGréil remained at the bottom of the mountain but intends to climb again next year after hip operations. Like the rest of the Jesuits I’m sure the prayers of Pope Francis will help to see him preach again from his beloved Mám Éan.
I may have escaped from the television but did not escape from the radio. As the Stations of the cross proceeded I heard a loud whisper between the third and the fourth Station: “Galway are getting hammered.” A pilgrim with a phone had one ear to heaven and another to earth. The Way of the Cross continued, Father Fintan commenting in Irish and English on each Station, with Joe John Mac An Iomaire from Cill Chiaráin, one of the best sean-nós singers in Ireland singing a verse from the haunting “Caoineadh na dTrí Muire” as the group moved from one place to the next.
“Is this the little son I carried for three seasons?” is one of the questions posed by Mary as she laments her dead son, followed by “Óchón agus Óchón ó,” echoing poignantly through the mountains.
It was just before the fourteenth Station that the whisper came again: “Galway are only two points behind – they are after getting two goals.” A different kind of resurrection seemed to be on the cards. The whole scene reminded me in some ways of a biblical occasion. The clothes were of course different, as were the i-phones and the digital cameras, but a religious occasion on a mountainside with a view of lakes and far-off seas seemed able to fit in well with many a gospel story. So did the distractions, the interruptions, the comments on the match. Story tellers like Matthew, Mark, Luke or John would have enjoyed it, faith in the market-place, people with different agendas, fingers in different pies at the same time, touching the hem of a garment or wondering about matches or burning bondholders (holding back the tribute to Caesar) All human life...
The end of a perfect day – put up your tired pilgrim feet and watch Mayo win their match by a point.
Week ending 12th.
The Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady which will be celebrated next Friday, the fifteenth of August has an enduring appeal for many Roman Catholics. I have had more requests from people who would like to have loved ones remembered at an open-air Mass that evening beside a holy well, Tobar Mhuire, than for most other occasions. The well and the well-cared for shrine beside it is in a sheltered spot by a narrow road which winds down to one of the many unspoiled beaches in the area. There are always flowers and candles around Mary’s statue, evidence of visitors in quieter moments, local people or passers by on their way down to their land or to the beach. There was a public rosary there on the evening of May Day and many people brought primroses and other flowers as part of the traditional ‘flowers of May’ homage to Our Lady. There will be many bigger and more spectacular pilgrimages on the day. The Novena at Knock will draw many thousands, as will other major shrines, but this is not a competition. The little altar lovingly tended to in somebody’s kitchen or entrance hall is as important in its own way as the spectacular ceremony. Our quiet roadside get-together will not be a traffic stopper, unless a stray car happens to wander down the road at the time. Too often we get hung up on numbers doing this or that, as if what is in each individual heart is not important. This is not the spiritual World Cup. There will be no need for a penalty shoot-out. The sick, the blind, the lame, the losers, the triers and non-triers are not excluded. There is room for everyone at the table of the Lord and the shrine of Our Lady.
There is a gospel story which sees Jesus down to the wire as regards numbers of followers that illustrates the importance of commitment over having crowds running after you. Crowds began to drift away from Jesus when the promise of his leading a revolution to throw the Romans out of the country faded. Those who had eaten the five loaves and two fishes had hoped for more of the same, and not just bread but weapons as well. They lost interest when Jesus began to talk of food for the soul, spiritual nourishment that could bring someone to eternal life. He was left wth his little band of faithful followers, whom he asked: “Will you too go away?” Peter answered for the rest of them: “To whom shall we go? You have the message of eternal life.” Like all followers of Jesus, the same Peter had his good days and bad, but that response certainly said it all.
The Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady is known in the Irish language as “Lá Fhéile Mhuire Mór san Fhómhair,” (The Autumn Feast of Mary, the great one.) Mary herself was given the singular honour of having a name all to herself – Muire. Girls named after her were called Mary or May, Máire, etc, but ‘Muire’ was retained for ‘the great one.’ Many prayers referred to her protection, to being wrapped in Mary’s cloak, not unlike Jesus’ comment about gathering people together as the hen gathers her chickens under her wing. As the Feast of the Assumption approaches: “Faoi bhrat Mhuire go raibh sibh – may you all be protected under Mary’s cloak.
There is a gospel story which sees Jesus down to the wire as regards numbers of followers that illustrates the importance of commitment over having crowds running after you. Crowds began to drift away from Jesus when the promise of his leading a revolution to throw the Romans out of the country faded. Those who had eaten the five loaves and two fishes had hoped for more of the same, and not just bread but weapons as well. They lost interest when Jesus began to talk of food for the soul, spiritual nourishment that could bring someone to eternal life. He was left wth his little band of faithful followers, whom he asked: “Will you too go away?” Peter answered for the rest of them: “To whom shall we go? You have the message of eternal life.” Like all followers of Jesus, the same Peter had his good days and bad, but that response certainly said it all.
The Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady is known in the Irish language as “Lá Fhéile Mhuire Mór san Fhómhair,” (The Autumn Feast of Mary, the great one.) Mary herself was given the singular honour of having a name all to herself – Muire. Girls named after her were called Mary or May, Máire, etc, but ‘Muire’ was retained for ‘the great one.’ Many prayers referred to her protection, to being wrapped in Mary’s cloak, not unlike Jesus’ comment about gathering people together as the hen gathers her chickens under her wing. As the Feast of the Assumption approaches: “Faoi bhrat Mhuire go raibh sibh – may you all be protected under Mary’s cloak.
Week ending 5th.
By the time this is in print I hope to have recovered from the annual Maméan pilgrimage in the Maamturk mountains. The shrine is high in the hills close to the Galway/Mayo border, about half way between Recess on the south and the Maam Valley to the north, with access on rugged pathways from both sides. I hope to have taken the mountain air and joined in the ceremonies, but circumstances have a way of putting paid to my plans. I probably annoy many people when I use the word “probably” in arrangements other than those which are essential, but sick calls, funerals, etc have a way of throwing the best laid plans awry.
The Maméan pilgrimage was revived mainly by Jesuit priest, Father Micheál McGréil just over thirty years ago. Stations of the cross, a Mass rock and small chapel, Cillín Phádraig were constructed at the shrine. A limestone statue of Saint Patrick, carved by Clíodhna Cussen was erected there in 1986. As statues go, it probably has the best scenic view in Ireland, the great sweep of Conamara, south to Galway Bay. The Twelve Pens, and the Maamturk mountains surround it, the same view basically that Saint Patrick himself had when he visited in 441, blessed the well (Tobar Phádraig) slept on the ledge of a rock (leaba Phádraig) and imparted his blessing on the people of Connemara.
A Mayo priest I knew put his own spin on that story as he had a good-natured ‘go’ at our Galway neighbours many years ago. He claimed that Saint Patrick went as far south as Maméan, looked out over the great expanse of lake and bogland beneath him and said: ‘I’ve seen enough,’ before he imparted his blessing and turned back to Mayo. It was supposedly his answer to the ‘Mayo God help us, Galway glad to get us’ jibe. The Galway version of the story has Saint Patrick blessing Conamara and its people, but leaving the day to day religious work to Saints MacDuach, MacDara, Ciaráin and others situated there at the time.
I am reliably informed that another Ciarán, Father Ciarán de Búrca of Leenane has written a hymn to be sung at the pilgrimage, so that is an added incentive to be there for the occasion. Another priest songwriter, Father Éamonn Ó Conghaile of Tir An Fhia, better known locally as “Eddie Bheartla,” told me this after Mass on Saint MacDara’s feastday at which he preached the sermon. Fr Éamonn’s work is well-known and very popular on Mid-West Radio. Unfortunately a disturbed sea prevented us from visiting MacDara’s island on the day, so Mass was in the local lifeboat boathouse, the front door of which was smashed during last January’s storms, but has thankfully since been replaced.
Many people do one pilgrimage after another right through the Summer. Tocher Phádraig, Croagh Patrick, Máméan, Saint Ciaráin, Loch na Naomh, not to speak of the Knock Novena and other ceremonies associated with the 15th of August Feast of The Assumption of Our Lady. The Camino walk in Northern Spain is becoming increasingly popular with those who want to combine holiday and pilgrimage, while Lourdes, Fatima and Mejudgoure have continuous appeal. Who says religion is on its last legs? It has really taken to its feet in recent times.
The Maméan pilgrimage was revived mainly by Jesuit priest, Father Micheál McGréil just over thirty years ago. Stations of the cross, a Mass rock and small chapel, Cillín Phádraig were constructed at the shrine. A limestone statue of Saint Patrick, carved by Clíodhna Cussen was erected there in 1986. As statues go, it probably has the best scenic view in Ireland, the great sweep of Conamara, south to Galway Bay. The Twelve Pens, and the Maamturk mountains surround it, the same view basically that Saint Patrick himself had when he visited in 441, blessed the well (Tobar Phádraig) slept on the ledge of a rock (leaba Phádraig) and imparted his blessing on the people of Connemara.
A Mayo priest I knew put his own spin on that story as he had a good-natured ‘go’ at our Galway neighbours many years ago. He claimed that Saint Patrick went as far south as Maméan, looked out over the great expanse of lake and bogland beneath him and said: ‘I’ve seen enough,’ before he imparted his blessing and turned back to Mayo. It was supposedly his answer to the ‘Mayo God help us, Galway glad to get us’ jibe. The Galway version of the story has Saint Patrick blessing Conamara and its people, but leaving the day to day religious work to Saints MacDuach, MacDara, Ciaráin and others situated there at the time.
I am reliably informed that another Ciarán, Father Ciarán de Búrca of Leenane has written a hymn to be sung at the pilgrimage, so that is an added incentive to be there for the occasion. Another priest songwriter, Father Éamonn Ó Conghaile of Tir An Fhia, better known locally as “Eddie Bheartla,” told me this after Mass on Saint MacDara’s feastday at which he preached the sermon. Fr Éamonn’s work is well-known and very popular on Mid-West Radio. Unfortunately a disturbed sea prevented us from visiting MacDara’s island on the day, so Mass was in the local lifeboat boathouse, the front door of which was smashed during last January’s storms, but has thankfully since been replaced.
Many people do one pilgrimage after another right through the Summer. Tocher Phádraig, Croagh Patrick, Máméan, Saint Ciaráin, Loch na Naomh, not to speak of the Knock Novena and other ceremonies associated with the 15th of August Feast of The Assumption of Our Lady. The Camino walk in Northern Spain is becoming increasingly popular with those who want to combine holiday and pilgrimage, while Lourdes, Fatima and Mejudgoure have continuous appeal. Who says religion is on its last legs? It has really taken to its feet in recent times.