Séamus Ahearne: LEARN TO GET IN TOUCH WITH THE SILENCE WITHIN YOURSELF. (Elizabeth Kubler-Ross)
SOMETHING OF THE WEEKEND THAT WAS
MISSION:
The earlier hours (Saturday morning, 19th October) were spent trying to put some outline shape on this Mission time. I meandered in my memory and escaped to the East End of London (Hoxton) and the characters. I arrived in Drogheda with an Experimental Community where the maverick Jim Kiely, inspired an alternative way of celebrating faith. I went to Dundee and Edinburgh and Carlisle. I was in Nigeria, South Korea, Japan and Sao Paulo. And now I am in Finglas for twenty-seven years. The sheer privilege of meeting so many; learning so much from everyone; finding all versions of a speaking God, who splashed the ‘word’ in different directions, and unlikely ways. Then the phone rang.
TRAGEDY AND ANOTHER FORM OF MISSION:
A young man had died by suicide. The family wondered if I would look after the funeral. They knew me from a history of involvement with the grandparents. I couldn’t say yes. All funerals have to be organised centrally or else there would be chaos. The presiding priest too has to be assigned in rotation. (Not easy but it is the only way.) By Sunday the place and priest were fixed. And then it was time for the afternoon (Saturday) and the five Baptisms. The babies were lovely. The families were good. They even arrived on time. Mission came back to mind; how to make something of such a special occasion and not be lost or locked into the formality of the Rite. That is the mission. Our language no longer speaks. And then it was time for the Eucharist. We had lots of sharing. Lots of noise. Lots of music. And we enjoyed the refreshment of the ‘bread’ blessed and broken. We did know that ‘Ite Missa Est’ doesn’t mean, Go The Mass Is Ended!
THE MISSION TO THE YOUNG AND PARENTS:
It was Sunday morning. The children for Confirmation were given the Scriptures as part of their ongoing commitment. (The text of the Sower). This was easy mission. What does that Scripture mean? A God who speaks? To them. How? When? Where? To the parents. To the children who have hardly been to Church since Communion. To parents who sometimes feel uncomfortable in a foreign place with a foreign language wafting about. The regulars make them feel welcome. After all, it is an open table. Hosts. Hostesses. Hospitality. But it is a troublesome scene. We know that (theoretically) the place for those children and parents is to be with the Community celebrating, worshipping together. But somehow the graft doesn’t work. (Monday had a similar celebration – and it was gentle and easy with the teachers doing a wonderful work of preparation.) However, the same questions remain. Confirmation can’t continue like this.
THE MISSION OF THE TRAVELLERS TO US:
And then there was Mass at 13.00 hours in Oliver Plunkett’s. Two priests arrived. Paddy Kelly and Brendan O’Rourke. They asked me what was happening. I didn’t know but smilingly told them to be patient and allow themselves to be surprised. The 11.30 Mass ended and a tidy up began. The usual noisy regulars had some fun. As it approached one o’clock, the church filled up. It was packed. Details of the ceremony were released slowly. The Travellers were in charge. Paddy Kelly’s 80th birthday was being celebrated. His forty years of working with the Travellers was being highlighted and recalled. Brendan O’Rourke (Redemptorist Provincial) was the chief celebrant. Paddy was told nothing! It was a magnificent occasion. Every detail was organised. However, it was also amusing in that it was the women who did everything. The men were kept back or stayed back. The Readers. The Prayers. The Symbols. The Speeches. The Cake. The Presents. The Photos. The Heart of everyone. It was beautiful. A few of us (as priests) kept out of the way as we should.
PADDY’S MISSION:
What was Celebrated was: Paddy’s presence for those 40 years in the community of the Travellers. Always there. With the travellers. In happy times. In bad times. In tragedies. In fun times. In party times. It was an explosion of faith. An explosion of what the word pastoral means. It is the simple and ordinary things. Paddy was at home in their homes. They were at home with him. It was God ‘in the bits of pieces’ of everyday life. Those of who looked on the Presents; at the Symbols; at the Words; at the Love; at the Faith – were moved. We knew what priesthood can mean. What it has meant. What ‘being there’ means. What they all meant to each other. Those of us, on the sidelines (ourselves as priests) were moved as we experienced the wonder of our vocation, the beauty of being at ease and at home, and privileged in all the good- moments and God-moments of life. ‘Lift up your hearts’ the introduction to the Preface said and we did. Brendan did a fine job as he let the ‘women’ lead him astray. Paddy just allowed himself to bask in the surprises of the day. This was really Eucharist. We were all privileged to be there.
THAT HUMBLE PLACE WHERE WE DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY:
As the evening rolled on, some of us went to the home of the family who were dealing with the death of the young man of 39. Who has any words? After five or six visits we have put something together. As John’s Gospel says: ‘What do you want? Where do you live? Come and see.’ We went and we saw as we visited the home of this man’s life and the home of this family. Pastoral life is such a privilege. On returning to the house here, after some eating, I turned on the TV. I hadn’t a clue as to what was on and didn’t particularly care.
SOME MUSIC:
But it was ‘The Young Musician of the Year (2024)’ on BBC. Ryan Wang won with his performance of Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto. Jacky Zhang also played the same piece. However, my favourite was Shlomi Shahaf’s performance of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. I admit to my ignorance. I know almost nothing about such music. My inadequacy is profound. But I loved watching and listening to it. The Orchestra was brilliant. That completed my day. As I smiled my way back in reflection on all those years of formal education. I learned so little. And the ‘how’ and the ‘way’ of learning seems to me to be so crude. I think that I have learned a little since those faraway days by reaction to what was supposedly taught. Now I did read Chris Hoy’s interview on his cancer prognosis where he waits for those two to four years of life. This was rather special. I also read something of Gisele Pelicot and the trial of all those men who managed to rape her with the connivance of her ‘perfect’ husband. A little bit of sport polished off the day and a few book reviews. I then began to plan ahead for young Stuart’s funeral. The celebration for Paddy Kelly warmed my soul. The above is only a snippet of an ordinary weekend. There was much more.
Seamus Ahearne osa (23rd October 2024. )