Saturday 31 May 2014

BUSTANI - A Place Of My Own

For nearly six years now since my mother died, I've been travelling down the distance from Dublin to Galway first of all to visit my family and secondly to keep the gardens of home in check. It sounds posh to say "gardens" as if I own an estate.

The housing estate of Mervue that was built by the corporation in the 1950's was well planned, thoughtfully providing a lot of public and private space. Our family home is one of six terraced houses in Ceannt Avenue where we were given three gardens. One small one at the front, another small one at the back and then the big back garden that was used in our youth for growing vegetables.

It was my mother's garden. It was she who cultivated it when she was young and strong enough to do so. In later years she turned it into a lawn edged on one side with lovely shrubs and small trees. And she left all of this to me before she died, wanting me to have a place of my own to come home to.     

I'm no Diarmuid Gavin but I keep the front garden in fairly good shape for the sake of the neighbours so that they're not looking at an eyesore. 

It's the big back garden that challenges me most - internally. I don't mind the physical part of it at all. Tending it I always ask "who am I doing this for?" since very few people ever get to see it. Of course God sees it all the time and I've no doubt but that He would be happy with it even if it were an out of control jungle.

Sometimes someone has looked in on it with regret, saying something like "it's not the same as when Maureen was here."  Indeed it has spoken to me of her absence and it has certainly grown wild in spots with a wildness that I find attractive and convenient.

Mam's lilac tree fell in the storm of a recent winter and I left it there, though I cut away some of the dead branches. When people suggested that I remove it I said no because it's a memorial of her. Then to my great pleasure the fallen tree sprouted new shoots in the spring and has blossomed for two summers now. 

So it rests there as a parable for me of the hope that abides in the fallen states of life. A reminder of the line from the Book of Job , "there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail." (Job 14:7)

A parable for me! Even though I am solitary by nature, there is something innate in me, part of my vocation as a priest that lives and works for the benefit of the "other" rather than for myself. I live for God first and then other people. So it doesn't make sense to me to be tending a garden that is of benefit to no one but me.

But now on this day in May I know that this garden is mine and for me. I tend it largely for my own benefit. For the first time in years I have sat here alone for a couple of hours - reading, gazing up at the blue sky, watching seagulls, pigeons, magpies, blackbirds and the multitude of minute insects that hum in the grass. I listen to the robins and I am visited by them. 

For the first time ever this garden speaks of me and my presence. 

All of this is happening to me on Ascension Thursday, an appropriate feast for homecoming and the place of one's belonging. Jesus is returning home to the Father, to the place where He belongs from all eternity. I haven't quite ascended but I have arrived home in a new way to the place where I belong. A place of my own.



Friday 30 May 2014

BUSTANI - A Place Of My Own

For nearly six years now since my mother died, I've been travelling down the distance from Dublin to Galway first of all to visit my family and secondly to keep the gardens of home in check. It sounds posh to say "gardens" as if I own an estate.

The housing estate of Mervue that was built by the corporation in the 1950's was well planned, thoughtfully providing a lot of public and private space. Our family home is one of six terraced houses in Ceannt Avenue where we were given three gardens. One small one at the front, another small one at the back and then the big back garden that was used in our youth for growing vegetables.

It was my mother's garden. It was she who cultivated it when she was young and strong enough to do so. In later years she turned it into a lawn edged on one side with lovely shrubs and small trees. And she left all of this to me before she died, wanting me to have a place of my own to come home to.     

I'm no Diarmuid Gavin but I keep the front garden in fairly good shape for the sake of the neighbours so that they're not looking at an eyesore. 

It's the big back garden that challenges me most - internally. I don't mind the physical part of it at all. Tending it I always ask "who am I doing this for?" since very few people ever get to see it. Of course God sees it all the time and I've no doubt but that He would be happy with it even if it were an out of control jungle.

Sometimes someone has looked in on it with regret, saying something like "it's not the same as when Maureen was here."  Indeed it has spoken to me of her absence and it has certainly grown wild in spots with a wildness that I find attractive and convenient.

Mam's lilac tree fell in the storm of a recent winter and I left it there, though I cut away some of the dead branches. When people suggested that I remove it I said no because it's a memorial of her. Then to my great pleasure the fallen tree sprouted new shoots in the spring and has blossomed for two summers now. 

So it rests there as a parable for me of the hope that abides in the fallen states of life. A reminder of the line from the Book of Job , "there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail." (Job 14:7)

A parable for me! Even though I am solitary by nature, there is something innate in me, part of my vocation as a priest that lives and works for the benefit of the "other" rather than for myself. I live for God first and then other people. So it doesn't make sense to me to be tending a garden that is of benefit to no one but me.

But now on this day in May I know that this garden is mine and for me. I tend it largely for my own benefit. For the first time in years I have sat here alone for a couple of hours - reading, gazing up at the blue sky, watching seagulls, pigeons, magpies, blackbirds and the multitude of minute insects that hum in the grass. I listen to the robins and I am visited by them. 

For the first time ever this garden speaks of me and my presence. 

All of this is happening to me on Ascension Thursday, an appropriate feast for homecoming and the place of one's belonging. Jesus is returning home to the Father, to the place where He belongs from all eternity. I haven't quite ascended but I have arrived home in a new way to the place where I belong. A place of my own.


Saturday 24 May 2014

ALL OF ME LOVES ALL OF YOU

"Always have your answer ready for people who ask you the reason for the hope you all have" (1 Peter 3:15)

My answer is not a theology or a logic or even an explanation. It is an experience that is known and understood in my soul. It is beyond words but we also need to put some words on it. Each of us needs to put our own words on a truth that is eternal.

The soul gets crusty and rusty and smothered by all sorts of clutter, so it's necessary to clear away the debris that has gathered in and around the it. This clearing away takes me back to a time of pure innocence, the time of my First Holy Communion. 

I knew that Jesus Himself was coming into me, into my soul and I longed for Him, approaching Him with great reverence in the way that I see reverence in the children of today, the reverence that is essential for the well-being of the soul.

And I was expecting a physical brightness to take place in me, wondering if the soles of my shoes would shine brightly with the effect of Jesus. But of course it wasn't physical.

What I learned to discover over the years is that the soul is a space within me that cannot be seen or touched or measured - it is in this space that Divine Love is experienced and known. And it is important to keep that space intact, to preserve its purity and integrity.

In this material age we tend to value what can be seen, counted, measured - where seeing is believing. The spiritual life of the soul does not respond to these criteria and so it is treated as being unimportant in a person's development. We pay great attention to the mind, the body and feelings and all of these need to be cared for but there can be no proper human development without the development of the soul and it's protection.

A Cistercian writer talks about how each of us stands at the door of our own soul and to everything that approaches our lives were are meant to ask it "are you for me or against me?" We should only let in those things that are for our good.

Sadly, a lot of the time we don't stand guard at all, we don't ask the question and we let everything and anything in so that we live in a state of spiritual confusion or even spiritual decay.

Jesus in the Eucharist seeks to enter our souls as the food that preserves its innocence and integrity. In Communion He gives all of Himself so that we may be well.

I'm taken by the song "All Of Me" by John Legend. It's not about God as such but from the first time I heard it and every time I hear it now, it's as if God is saying to me personally "All of me loves all of you" and my soul responds to God with the same "All of me loves all of you" and the song ends with "I give you all of me And you give me all of you"

This is what is happening between Jesus and the soul in Communion, it is what's happening within the Christian communitty and in this I find the reason for my hope.

Friday 23 May 2014

Presence

Firmer than flour
A sack of grain
Stacked solid

Capable of being

Dented
Sat upon
Hauled

Incapable

Of moving free
From shadow

The persistent
Pursuing dark

The child loved this

Persevering
Obedient
Waiting

Without question

Sitting solitary still
On a rock
Gazing

Sea of blue and black
Yellow and green and red

I loved hiding
In safe dark spaces

Utterly alone
And present

The Open Door (A Prayer)

Letting go of what I know
All that I cling to for safety

I fall through the open door

And dive plunging
Into the deep abyss

Of nothingness
That I do not know

At the centre of my being
Unfathomable mystery
That contains the universe

Held encompassed by God

It is into His hands
That I will land
If I land at all

Or fall further
Beyond the decayed
Debris of my past

To the incredibly vibrant
Colour that lies hidden

Beneath what can be seen
Of me

Saturday 17 May 2014

Prayer And The Service Of The Word - A Chosen Race

5th Sunday of Easter 2014

Back in the day! 1984
The first reading from Acts 6 became a defining passage of Scripture at a defining moment in my life as a priest. I had already been in Tanzania a couple of years when I was appointed Parish Priest of Galapo and over those years it became increasingly clear that I wasn't fitting in to the model of the missionary church that I found there.
From the 1960's it was understood that you couldn't preach the gospel to empty stomachs and so it was necessary to feed the hungry before preaching to them. This is in keeping with the concern that Jesus had for the hungry when he multiplied the loaves and fish, though I think He fed them after they had listened to Him preach. The problem in Tanzania was that the hunger never went away and the material development of the people seemed to become the dominant feature of missionary life - not that the spiritual ministry didn't exist but it seemed to have become less central.
I found myself out of place in this environment, having no material skills at all and the people wondered why I wasn't building, farming, digging wells etc. It was around this time that I became aware of Acts 6 and the crisis that arose in the early Church. The apostles were overwhelmed with the distribution of food that was demanding so much of their attention that the preaching of the Gospel was put at risk.
The Church then discovered the importance of the various roles that ministers could and should fulfill in the community life. People were chosen to look after the material needs and the apostles devoted themselves to "prayer and the service of the word".
All the different ministries, roles, services are expressions of the one priesthood, the one mission of Christ. As Peter points out we are "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a consecrated nation, a people set apart". We are not individuals doing our own separate thing. We are a people for God and for each other.
Prayer and the service of the Word of God became my identity as a priest and when I explained this to the people, they understood and accepted and even came to value the power of prayer and the Word in their lives. I was also helped to arrive at this identity by retired Pallottine Bishop Patrick Winters who said to me as I was moving to Galapo - "all the buildings and projects are there. You just go and preach the Gospel." That meant an awful lot coming from him.
Prayer and preaching don't always have visible results; it's a life lived in faith, trusting that God will make something of our efforts. But there were visible results too. Shortly before I left Tanzania on one Sunday I baptized 200 young people and adults. The following week, when the bishop arrived for Confirmations, he was very dismissive of the Pallottines saying that we were no good at pastoral work. I told him there were 800 people for confirmation, and I have to confess I enjoyed the shock on his face!
We reach moments of crisis in our personal lives, family life and church life. Such moments demand that we assess and discern how we are to move forward into the future. We decide who and what we are to become.
As Christians this assessment and discernment has to have Jesus at its centre and reference point. Set yourselves close to Him, St. Peter says. It is He who determines the shape of things to come and we are not left to our own devices in moving forward into uncertain futures. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God still and trust in me..." (John 14:1ff)
Society and many Irish Catholics now treat Jesus as if He were simply one of many options and we water down His importance, the importance of His Gospel. How many in our time have turned to fortune tellers - which cannot exist side by side with faith. For Jesus Himself there is great clarity, no ambiguity. He says of himself "I am the way, the truth and the life".
He is not one way, one truth, one life among many others. He is THE way, THE truth and THE life and we who profess to follow Him are called to hold fast to Him - to follow the WAY, to live by the TRUTH and to experience the LIFE that is only to be found in Jesus.
We experience this communal truth in many ways and in ways that are intimately personal. For me He has become "my Lord, my Life and my Love."

Sunday 11 May 2014

Grotto

Place of beauty
Moment of bliss
Birds singing

Sound of the Grotto
In May

I am fifteen
Nearly innocent again
Almost recovered

From breaking down
Still bruised
But breathing

Passing through the gap
From the rocky fields
Of play to churchyard prayer

Entering the gateway
To paradise beneath
A canopy of fresh green

Oasis in the desert
Deep pool where raging
Rapid waters cease

Five stone steps
To ascend
Five mysteries

Joy
Sorrow
Glory

I am on my knees
In unhurried prayer
Making this refuge last

Fending off  the future
As long as I can

"Will you mind me?"
I wonder

On the sixth step
I am Bernadette silently
Looking up to Mary
Looking higher still

The ultimate ascent
That I have yearned for
Since first I left it

But now I must descend again
To the old priest's grave

And run for a further
Wordless glance to Jesus
In the sanctuary

The sound of the ticking
Pendulum clock
Reminding me of an old
Kitchen telling me its time

Monday 5 May 2014

The Well

The thirsty camel 
Is on his knees
A hot sand-coloured noon


Nothing moves

I go to the well alone
Leaving behind
The bulk burden 

Stubborness

I hear Him crying
Beneath a cypress shade

My hand touches cold
Clear water

Blessed refreshment
On parched lips
Ointment for bleary eyes

I see Him

Collapsed against
The tree trunk
Face sunk in

Pulled-up knees
Bare feet blistered
Bruised

I hold Him

Giving Him to drink
Bathing His sacred
Feet

I have expectations
Of Him

The water that quenches
All thirst

I want it 

Not now
Not here
He says

There is a distant fall

Rough rocks the road
I must traverse thirsting
All the more

Till I am parched enough

Unshakeable Interior

Swine of a storm
Stampeding down

The Mountain

Snapping in half
Every tree of the forest
Stripping the surface bare

Uprooting the flimsy
Dwelling I had constructed

You have prepared
A cave carved

Into Your very essence

Unshakeable interior
Safe shelter from all fury

I will take my stand
At the entracnce

And not be overwhelmed

+++

11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for theLord is about to pass by.”
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

1 Kings 19

Saturday 3 May 2014

Atmosphere

Smashed Window by RavenMaddArtwork

You smashed my window
Cast a rock through my senses

Shattered asylum's tranquility

Shelter where I am refugee
From my own country

Exposed now to elements
Of unfair weather

Breathing hostile air
I tread contaminated soil

Alien in a place
That cannot claim me

My belonging being
Elsewhere

Yet there is holiness
Here a higher atmosphere