Since we are travellers and pilgrims in the world, let us ever ponder on the end of the road, that is of our life, for the end of our roadway is our home (St Columban, 8th sermon).
Showing posts with label Eucharistic Congress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eucharistic Congress. Show all posts
The 50th International Eucharistic Congress began in Dublin last Sunday, in a very different Ireland from the one where the 31st such congress was held 80 years ago. There is a positive report about the opening of the current congress by Mary O'Regan in the Catholic Herald.
Some time ago a friend at home asked me to make a short video about the then forthcoming Congress. What you see above is what came out, a little different to what I had been asked to do. I later did the latter and posted it last week.
What came out in this video was mostly about the faith of my Dad and the impact the 1932 Congress had on it. I never asked him about the Congress, though he often spoke about it, and I never asked him about his faith. But his faith still continues to form me nearly 25 years after his death.
May the current Congress not only strengthen and help renew the faith of Irish Catholics of today but may it influence the missionary faith of generations to come as the Congress 80 years ago continues to do with me through the faith of my Dad who died in 1987.
From the 'Faith of Our Fathers' Concert, Dublin, 1997
I read somewhere the other day that Soul of My Saviour was the Theme Hymn for the 31st International Eucharistic Congress in Dublin 1932. The original Latin, Anima Christi, was possibly written by Pope John XXII (reigned 1316-1334). The music was written by WJ Mahler, according to one source I found.
This is one of the first hymns I remember hearing and singing, in Holy Family Church, Aughrim Street, Dublin. Part of the tune's appeal for me is that it is manly.
I got into trouble once in the seminary for playing Soul of My Saviour on the organ. Every year our Sunday Mass was broadcast nationally for four successive Sundays. (Our national broadcasting service still has Mass on the air every Sunday morning). One year our month coincided with Lent when music was kept to a minimum. However, I decided to play the hymn at the end of one Mass so that there wouldn't be silence on the air, normally a 'no-no'. However, the Senior Dean, the late Fr Hugh Markey, a canon lawyer, gave me a verbal equivalent of the 'good clip in the year' that my late father used to threaten us with at home but never carried out. However, I wasn't expelled or excommunicated.
I mentioned in Sunday Reflections that one of the speakers at the International Eucharistic Congress opening in Dublin today is Archbishop Luis Antonio Tagle of Manila. Here is another setting in English of the Anima Christi sung by the Madrigal Singers of the University of the Philippines.
The University has a special place in Columban history as it was there that Fr Edward J. McCarthy, one of the very first Columbans, started Student Catholic Action. The authorities wouldn't allow him to work as a chaplain so he enrolled as a student and organised his fellow students.Among other things, SCA helped prepare students for the 33rd International Eucharistic Congress held in Manila in 1936, the same year the movement began. The Archbishop of Manila at that time was Irishman Michael O'Doherty.
I know one bishop here in the Philippines who has the strange idea that people always stand when they're singing. He insists on the congregation standing even during the responsorial psalm when it's sung, as it should be, ideally. However, the Madrigal Singers, whom I saw perform in Sacred Heart Seminary here in Bacolod City, nearly always sit while they are singing.
Please continue your prayers for a renewal of faith among Irish Catholics.
I recorded this video some weeks ago at the request of a friend in Ireland. I mention my concern about the diminishing numbers attending Sunday Mass and of the loss of faith in the Real Presence. The report in yesterday's edition of The Irish Times, Many Catholics 'do not believe' church teachings, confirms what I express in the video. I posted about the report, with links to related articles, yesterday.
A few months ago, at a large funeral in a mid-western Irish town for a
devout, much-loved 88-year-old family man, his 13 handsome, 20- and
30-something grandchildren brought joy and life to the occasion. The one
thing they failed to bring was a knowledge of basic Mass etiquette.
Throughout the consecration, oblivious to the bowed and kneeling
congregation behind them, all 13 remained seated, exchanging the odd
friendly word. Then they all trooped solemnly up for Communion.
It
generated some quiet exchanges afterwards. The local priest said
cheerfully that all were welcome in his church, regardless of their
knowledge or devotion – “sure, isn’t that what we’re here for?” A
visiting priest remarked mildly that “nearly all Irish Catholics were
infantilised – their spiritual development was arrested back around
First Communion time”.
A 50-something layman shrugged and said :
“They’re gone in any meaningful sense. They’ll turn up in church because
they know their grandad would have wanted it and they like the sense of
community it gives them – but do they really believe in any of it
anymore . . . ?”
First Communicants at Holy Family Home for Girls. Some had just been baptised and confirmed. Most of these girls come from backgrounds of poverty and many have experienced far worse than that.
Carl O'Brien's report on the poll says, When it comes to the church’s teachings, many Catholics do not subscribe
to key tenets such as transubstantiation. Almost two-thirds (62 per
cent) believe the blessing of bread and wine during Mass only represents
the body and blood of Christ.
May is the traditional month in Ireland for First Holy Communion. In my kindergarten school, Stanhope St, Dublin, there used to be First Holy Communions also in December. I made mine on 20 May 1950, which was a Holy Year. Kathy Sheridan of The Irish Times had an article in the 12 May issue of the paper this year, The first holy conundrum. She began this way:
To some families it’s a holy sacrament, to others it’s an excuse for a
party, and to many it’s an exercise in hypocrisy and mass delusion. So
why is First Holy Communion a tradition we can’t let go of?
So you thought the meringue dresses, stretch limos and cash-stuffed envelopes
were the worst of it? Think about the people behind the scenes. This
weekend, the Catholic priests of Ireland will don their festive
vestments, set their jaws to smile mode and pray they get through the
season without having to arm-wrestle someone in the aisle.
First Communions can be trying affairs.
And this bit is similar to the opening of her article today, quoted above:
Ann Buggie, principal of the 408-pupil Scoil Mhuire in Portlaoise
town, attributes the increased noise and random movement partly to
multicultural factors but also to a general social shift towards
inappropriate behaviour. “It’s a reflection of what’s happening in the
home,” she says.
“It’s to do with the number of people in the
church who are not familiar with those surroundings any more and who are
determined not to be respectful in those surroundings,” says Msgr
Byrne. “I think there is a need in them to display their dissatisfaction
with the church by not respecting the building.”
So why are they
there? “They’re there for the child, and they’re not really interested.
But it’s just not a lack of interest in the ceremony. They’re very
uncomfortable at being there.”
One of the girls being baptised at Holy Family Home
A few years ago I celebrated Sunday Mass in a parish in Dublin. I think it was the feast of Corpus Christi, which will be celebrated on Thursday in countries where it is a holyday of obligation and on Sunday elsewhere. I gave very simple and direct teaching in my homily, stressing that the bread and wine brought up at the offertory become the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ the Risen Lord at the Consecration. This is something I often do. A middle-aged man came to me afterwards and thanked me because, he said, such teaching was seldom heard anymore.
The Pope's two prayer intentions for June are very relevant to the situation in Ireland.
General intention: Christ, Present in the Eucharist.That believers may recognize in the Eucharist the living presence of the Risen One who accompanies them in daily life.
Missionary intention: European Christians.That Christians in Europe may rediscover their true identity and participate with greater enthusiasm in the proclamation of the Gospel.
Gospel John 15:1-8 (Jerusalem Bible: Australia, England & Wales, India
[optional], Ireland, New Zealand, Pakistan, Scotland, South Africa)
Jesus
said to his disciples:
'I
am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that
bears no fruit he cuts away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes to
make it bear even more. You are pruned already, by means of the word that I
have spoken to you. Make your home in me, as I make mine in you. As a branch cannot
bear fruit all by itself, but must remain part of the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever
remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty; for cut off from me you
can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me is like a branch that has been
thrown away - he withers; these branches are collected and thrown on the fire,
and they are burnt. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask
what you will and you shall get it. It is to the glory of my Father that you
should bear much fruit, and then you will be my disciples.'
An Soiscéal Eoin 15:1-8 (Gaeilge,
Irish)
San am sin dúirt Íosa
lena dheisceabail:
Mise an fhíniúin fhíor,
agus is é m’Athair an saothraí. Gach géag ionam nach dtugann toradh, bainfidh sé í; agus gach géag a thugann toradh, bearrfaidh sé í, ionas go dtabharfaidh
sí breis toraidh. Tá sibhse bearrtha de bharr an bhriathair a labhair mé libh. Fanaigí
ionamsa, agus mise ionaibh. Faoi mar nach féidir don ghéag toradh a thabhairt
uaithi féin, mura bhfanann sí san fhíniúin, sin mar nach féidir daoibhse, mura bhfanann
sibh ionamsa. Mise an fhíniúin, sibhse na géaga; an té a fhanann ionamsa, agus
mise ann, tugann seisean toradh mór uaidh; óir gan mise, ní féidir daoibh aon
ní a dhéanamh. Cibé nach bhfanfaidh ionamsa, caithfear amach é mar ghéag, agus
feofaidh sé; agus tógfar agus caithfear sa tine iad, agus dófar iad. Má fhanann
sibh ionamsa agus má fhanann mo bhriathra ionaibh, iarrfaidh sibh cibé ní is
mian libh agus déanfar daoibh é. Tugadh glóir do m’Athair sa mhéid go dtugann
sibhse toradh mór uaibh, agus go mbeidh sibh in bhur ndeisceabail agamsa.
Today’s
gospel was the one used by Pope Benedict when he celebrated Mass in the Olympic
Stadium in Berlin last year on 22 September. In his homily the Pope used these striking words: In the parable of the vine, Jesus does not
say: “You are the vine”, but: “I am the vine, you are the branches” (John 15:5). In other words: “As the
branches are joined to the vine, so you belong to me! But inasmuch as you
belong to me, you also belong to one another.” This belonging to each other and
to him is not some ideal, imaginary, symbolic relationship, but – I would
almost want to say – a biological, life-transmitting state of belonging to
Jesus Christ. Such is the Church, this communion of life with Jesus Christ and
for one another, a communion that is rooted in baptism and is deepened and
given more and more vitality in the Eucharist. “I am the true vine” actually
means: “I am you and you are I” – an unprecedented identification of the Lord
with us, with his Church.
So many are caught in a ‘Jesus and me’ mentality,
which ignores the reality of the Church as the universal sacrament of salvation, words from the Second Vatican Council
that Pope Benedict quotes.
As I was reading the Pope’s homily I was thinking that he could have been
speaking directly to the people of my native Ireland where there is a deep
crisis in the Church. He says to the congregation in Berlin, Many people see only the outward form of the
Church. This makes the Church appear as merely one of the many organizations
within a democratic society, whose criteria and laws are then applied to the
task of evaluating and dealing with such a complex entity as the ‘Church’. If
to this is added the sad experience that the Church contains both good and bad
fish, wheat and darnel, and if only these negative aspects are taken into
account, then the great and beautiful mystery of the Church is no longer seen.
It follows that belonging to this
vine, the ‘Church’, is no longer a source of joy. Dissatisfaction and
discontent begin to spread, when people’s superficial and mistaken notions of ‘Church’,
their ‘dream Church’, fail to materialize! Then we no longer hear the glad song
‘Thanks be to God who in his grace has called me into his Church’ that
generations of Catholics have sung with conviction.
I sometimes feel discouraged when I read the news from Ireland. I sometimes
feel discouraged at happenings in the Philippines, especially within the
Church.
But Jesus tells us clearly that separated from him we can do nothing. Each
of us has to decide whether or not we wish to remain united to the life-giving
vine who is Jesus himself. Pope Benedict says, Every one of us is faced with this choice. The Lord reminds us how much
is at stake as he continues his parable: ‘If a man does not abide in me, he is
cast forth as a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into
the fire and burned’ (John
15:6). There is nothing of the ‘meek and mild’ in these stark words of
Jesus.
Yet the Gospel, the Good News’ is by definition a message of joyful hope, as
the Pope reminded the people in Berlin:
The decision that is required of us
here makes us keenly aware of the fundamental significance of our life choices.
But at the same time, the image of the vine is a sign of hope and confidence.
Christ himself came into this world through his incarnation, to be our root.
Whatever hardship or drought befall us, he is the source that offers us the
water of life, that feeds and strengthens us. He takes upon himself all our
sins, anxieties and sufferings and he purifies and transforms us, in a way that
is ultimately mysterious, into good branches that produce good wine. In such
times of hardship we can sometimes feel as if we ourselves were in the
wine-press, like grapes being utterly crushed. But we know that if we are
joined to Christ we become mature wine. God can transform into love even the
burdensome and oppressive aspects of our lives. It is important that we ‘abide’
in Christ, in the vine. The evangelist uses the word ‘abide’ [‘remain’] a dozen times in this brief passage. This ‘abiding
in Christ’ characterizes the whole of the parable. In our era of restlessness
and lack of commitment, when so many people lose their way and their grounding,
when loving fidelity in marriage and friendship has become so fragile and
short-lived, when in our need we cry out like the disciples on the road to
Emmaus: ‘Lord, stay with us, for it is almost evening and darkness is all
around us!’ (cf. Luke 24:29),
in this present era, the risen Lord gives us a place of refuge, a place of
light, hope and confidence, a place of rest and security. When drought and
death loom over the branches, then in Christ we find future, life and joy. In
him we always find forgiveness and the opportunity to begin again, to be
transformed as we are drawn into his love.
To abide in Christ means, as we saw
earlier, to abide in the Church as well. The whole communion of the faithful
has been firmly incorporated into the vine, into Christ. In Christ we belong
together. Within this communion he supports us, and at the same time all the
members support one another. We stand firm together against the storm and offer
one another protection. Those who believe are not alone. We do not believe
alone, we believe with the whole Church of all times and places, with the
Church in heaven and the Church on earth.
May I, as an Irish missionary priest in the Philippines, ask your prayers
for a renewal of the Church in Ireland and that the International EucharisticCongress to be held
in Dublin in June will be a life-giving ‘pruning’ for each and every individual
Catholic and for the Church as a whole in Ireland so that once again it can
truly be a sign of God’s love for all, the universal sacrament of salvation.
Céad mile fáilte (Irish Gaelic) or
Ceud Mìle Fàilte (Scottish Gaelic) is a traditional greeting, here extended to
Jesus (Íosa). The following is copied straight from the description that goes with the video.
CÉAD MÍLE FÁILTE ROMHAT A ÍOSA is an especially charming version of one
of Ireland's treasury of religious songs, handed down to modern times by
oral tradition.
It is generally sung as a Christmas carol but
also serves as a beautiful hymn for the reception of Holy Communionat
any time of the year.
The recording, from the CD 'Faith of Our
Fathers' originally released in the early 1990s, is beautifully sung by
the RTÉ Cór na nÓg to an arrangement by Dubliner John Drummond.
'Cór na nÓg' is a choir for children maintained by RTÉ, Ireland's admirable national broadcasting authority.
For translations into English and Welsh please scroll down.
SA GHAEILGE / IN IRISH
Céad míle fáilte romhat, a Íosa, a Íosa,
Céad míle fáilte romhat, a Íosa,
Céad míle fáilte romhat, a Shlánaitheoir
Céad míle míle fáilte romhat, a Íosa, a Íosa...
Glóir agus moladh duit, a Íosa, a Íosa,
Glóir agus moladh duit, a Íosa,
Glóir agus moladh duit, a Shlánaitheoir,
Glóir, moladh agus buíochas duit, a Íosa, a Íosa...
Céad míle fáilte romhat, a Shlánaitheoir,
Céad míle míle fáilte romhat, a Íosa, a Íosa...
IN ENGLISH / SA BHÉARLA
A hundred thousand welcomes to you, o Jesus, o Jesus,
A hundred thousand welcomes to you, o Jesus,
A hundred thousand welcomes to you, o Saviour,
A hundred thousand welcomes to you, o Jesus, o Jesus...
Glory and praise to you, o Jesus, o Jesus,
Glory and praise to you, o Jesus,
Glory and praise to you, o Saviour,
Glory, praise and thanks to you, o Jesus, o Jesus...
A hundred thousand welcomes to you, o Saviour,
A hundred thousand welcomes to you, o Jesus, o Jesus...
SA BHREATNAIS / IN WELSH / YN Y GYMRAEG
Croeso it galon gu, yr Iesu,
Croeso it galon gu, y Waredwr ,
Croeso it galon gu a glân, yr Iesu, yr Iesu...
Moliant a bri i ti, yr Iesu, yr Iesu,
Moliant a bri i ti, yr Iesu,
Moliant a bri i ti, y Waredwr,
Pob moliant pur a diolch i ti, yr Iesu, yr Iesu.
Croeso it galon gu, y Waredwr ,
Croeso it galon gu a glân, yr Iesu, yr Iesu...
This
version in Welsh may be sung to the traditional Irish melody. To make
it so meant writing a translation to fit the music. For that reason it
is not nearly as literal as the not-for-singing version in English.
Gospel, Matthew14:13-21 (Jerusalem Bible: Australia, England and Wales, Ireland, Scotland)
When Jesus received this news he withdrew by boat to a lonely place where they could be by themselves. But the people heard of this and, leaving the towns, went after him on foot. So as he stepped ashore he saw a large crowd; and he took pity on them and healed their sick.
When evening came, the disciples went to him and said, 'This is a lonely place, and the time has slipped by; so send the people away, and they can go to the villages to buy themselves some food'. Jesus replied, 'There is no need for them to go: give them something to eat yourselves'. But they answered 'All we have with us is five loaves and two fish'. 'Bring them here to me' he said. He gave orders that the people were to sit down on the grass; then he took the five loaves and the two fish, raised his eyes to heaven and said the blessing. And breaking the loaves handed them to his disciples who gave them to the crowds. They all ate as much as they wanted, and they collected the scraps remaining; twelve baskets full. Those who ate numbered about five thousand men, to say nothing of women and children.
Soiscéal, Matha 14:13-21 (Gaeilge, Irish)
San am sin nuair a chuala Íosa faoi bhás Eoin, , chuaigh sé i leataobh as sin i mbád go dtí áit uaigneach ar leithligh. Ach fuair na sluaite scéala air, agus tháinig siad amach as na cathracha á leanúint dá gcois. Ar theacht i dtír dó, chonaic sé slua mór agus ghlac sé trua dóibh agus leigheas na hothair a bhí leo.
Nuair a bhí an tráthnóna ann, áfach, tháinig na deisceabail chuige agus dúirt siad: “Áit uaigneach é seo agus tá sé deireanach feasta. Mar sin, scaoil uait na sluaite go dtéidís isteach sna bailte agus bia a cheannach dóibh féin.” Ach dúirt Íosa leo: “Ní gá dóibh imeacht; tugaigí sibhse rud le hithe dóibh.” “Ach,” ar siadsan leis, “níl anseo againne ach cúig builíní agus dhá iasc.” “Tugaigí chugam anseo iad,” ar seisean. D’ordaigh sé do na sluaite luí fúthu ar an bhféar; thóg sé na cúig builíní agus an dá iasc, agus, ar dhearcadh suas chun na bhflaitheas dó, bheannaigh, bhris, agus thug na builíní do na deisceabail, agus thug na deisceabail do na sluaite iad. D’ith siad uile agus bhí siad sách, agus thóg siad suas an bruscar fuílligh, lán dhá chiseán déag. Timpeall cúig mhíle fear a fuair an béile, gan mná ná páistí a áireamh.
During my seminary years in the 1960s I sometimes came across this statement - though never from any of my teachers: 'You can't preach the Gospel to an empty stomach'. Today's gospel tells us clearly that Jesus took pity on those who had followed him that day, even though he needed time to be alone to come to terms with the news he had just received of the murder of his cousin John the Baptist. He then fed five thousand men, 'to say nothing of women and children' with the help of the apostles. In the very act of feeding all these people and healing the sick among them Jesus was bringing the Good News to them.
The Gospel isn't something separated from our lives. It is God's love experienced and shared. In my most recent post, 'Feed my sheep' fine - but 'feed my cat'?, I shared the charming story of Bishop-elect Thomas Dowd of Montreal who was once asked as a matter of urgency by a patient in the hospital where he was working to feed his cat. Father Dowd doesn't tell us anything about the man's faith but he saw the priest as a person who would do this act of kindness for him. That was his pressing need at that moment.
The pressing need of the vast throng that had followed him was for something to eat. There is a lovely detail in St Mark's version of the raising of the daughter of Jairus. While everyone is rejoicing at her having come to life Jesus, surely with a smile on his face, is aware of the pressing need of the 12-year-old who had just come through a deadly illness. He says, 'Give her something to eat' Mk 5:43).
St John, in his version of this event, one of very few to appear in the four gospels, has Jesus speaking about the Eucharist. As this gospel is read to us in this in the liturgy of the Word we are drawn to to thank God for the gift of himself that he offers us in every celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. do we really believe that it is Jesus the Risen Lord whom we receive in Holy Communion? Do we really believe that we are receving the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, as so many of us learned in the catechism when we were children? Do we really believe that the same Jesus who fed the thousands, with only five loaves and two fish, and the help of the apostles, is now giving himself to us as the Bread of Life?
In 1993 when I was parish priest in the relatively remote province of Surigao del Sur on the east coast of Mindanao a six-year-old boy was brought to the local government hospital on the verge of death from starvation. He was being taken care of by his 11-year-old sister, not by an adult. I discovered that their mother was dead and the siblings had been divided up among relatives. Fortunately, the boy slowly recovered and I was able to get the children into an SOS Children's Village where they grew up and were well taken care of. But I'll never forget one day when the boy's sister, who had missed some years in school, came to visit me and, pointing at Somalia on a world map on the wall said, 'There are many children like my brother there'. Very few in the parish even knew where Somalia was but this girl from an utterly deprived background made the connection between here brother and children suffering from the famine in that country at that time.
Sadly, famine once again has hit that troubled land. The gospel today and our receiving the Bread of Life in Holy Communion calls us to make a similar connection between Jesus the Bread of Life whom we receive, Jesus who fed the thousands, and the needs of those who are hungry anywhere, whether it is for food so that can they simply live or for some other expression of God's love for them.
May I ask you to continue to pray for all the members of the Church in Ireland, which is going through a grave crisis. The next International Eucharistic Congress is scheduled to be held in Dublin next year. Irish missionaries have brought the faith to every continent, have brought the Bread of Life, Who prepares us for the Eternal Banquet to which He invites each one. The people of Ireland now need the prayers of those who have received the gift of the Faith and the gift of the Bread of Life through Irish missionaries. May the Eucharistic Congress be a true moment of grace for the Irish Church.
I found this video on CathNews, Australia. I've been to Preston, which means 'Priest town', a number of times while based in Britain from 2000 to 2002, doing mission appeals. Most of the town is in the Archdiocese of Liverpool but part of it is in the Diocese of Lancaster.
I made a friend in another part of the Diocese of Lancaster who was seriously contemplating suicide. But one Good Friday the local Catholic parish held a Way of the Cross. She happened to see it and it led her away from her depression and eventually into the Catholic Church.
What the Capuchin Friars in Preston did on Ascension Thursday this year is a variation on the traditional Corpus Christi processions that used to be so common in many parts of the world. The processions were expressions of faith by the community. This was partly so but also a form of evangelisation, raising questions in people's minds. The Friars run a chaplaincy at the University of Central Lancashire.
At the chaplaincy
One person commenting on CathNews expressed some concern for the safety of the Blessed Sacrament being carried in a duffle bag. But I don't think there was any irreverence whatever.
Seán Ó Leocháin wrote in Irish Gaelic about the priest making his First Friday Communion visit to his father.
Nuair a tháinig an sagart When the priest came
chuig m’athair inniu, to my father today
mar a thagann de ghnáth as he usually comes i dtús na míosa, at the beginning of the month, le lón na beatha with the food of life a thabhairt d’fhear to give to a man nach bhfágann an chlúid who’s been bed-ridden in aon chor le tamall, for some time now, ní hé an gnás ab ait liom féin. it wasn’t the custom that was strange to me.
Ní hé ba mhó What really ba bhun le m’iontas caused my wonder wasn't fear dá chlú, a man of such repute, dá chleacht, dá éirim such experience, such intelligence ar cuairt na sean visiting the sick i dtús na míosa at the beginning of the month le comhairle a leasa with good advice a chur ar dhream to give to those nach bhfágfadh clúid na haithrí choíche, who would never leave the cover of repentance again,
ach Críost a theacht but Christ coming i gcarr athláimhe in a second-hand car a cheannaigh an sagart the priest bought ó fhear i Ros Comáin. from a man in Roscommon.
I think there's a connection between Christ being present to the people in High Street, Preston, and his going in a second-hand car to a sick man in the Irish midlands. The Irishman knew Who was coming to him as the Bread of Life. Some of those in Preston knew Who was among them. Maybe others, as a result of this, will come to know Him too.
There were two public events that were memorable in my father’s life. The first was the Eucharistic Congress in Dublin, where both my parents were born, in June 1932 and the second was being in Wembley Stadium in 1948 to see Manchester United, captained by Dubliner Jackie Carey, defeat Blackpool in the FA Cup. No doubt he would have been happy that soon after Manchester United won the European Cup, the Holy Father announced that the next International Eucharistic Congress would be held in Dublin in 2012.
Dad was 19 in 1932. He reluctantly agreed that Pope John Paul’s visit to Dublin in 1979 was on a par with the Congress. Indeed, Mass was celebrated on both occasions in the Phoenix Park, near where my parents and I grew up.
I came across a most interesting article about the 1932 Congress in the Multitext Project in Irish History of University College, Cork (UCC). It assesses the importance of this in the early years of the Irish Free State which had come into being just ten years before, followed by a bitter civil war. Yet ten years later a new government was elected. Both the outgoing government of William Cosgrave and the incoming government of Eamon de Valera were involved in the planning of the congress. It was seen as helping to heal some of the wounds of the civil war.
At the time the population of the Irish Free State was between 90 and 95 percent Catholic. Most of the remainder were Protestants, mostly Church of Ireland. We call them Anglicans now but the C of E families who were my neighbours always described themselves as ‘Protestants’. One of them, the late Charlie Brooks, went for the priest in the middle of the night when a Catholic neighbor was dying, We had no phones where I grew up.
The UCC article has a description of the closing Mass from The Irish Times, which would have been considered the ‘Protestant’ and pro-British paper at the time. The reporter was very likely a Protestant. But he captured something of the essence of the Holy Mass in his report.
Looking out over a sea of bowed heads at one of the massive Pontifical Mass in the Phoenix Park, The Irish Times described the scene in the following terms:
“…the audition was marvellous, whether it was of the full tones of the Cardinal Legate as he spoke the Mass, the tuneful antiphon of the choir, the sharp clamour of the trumpets as they paid homage at the elevation of the Host, or the beautiful voice of John McCormack that came clear and bell like, borne without a tremor over the whole silent space, midway through the Service. It was at that moment of the Elevation of the Host, the supreme point in Catholic ritual, that one fully realised the common mind that swallowed up all individuality in the immense throng. Flung together in their hundreds of thousands, like the sands on the seashore, these people were merely parts of a great organism which was performing a great act of faith, with no more ego in them than the sands themselves.”
This report brings to mind the ‘acclamation’ we had after the Consecration in the old days – a communal cough that released the great sense of awe and worship that the people had at the Consecration at Sunday Mass. When I look back I recall it as being a far greater expression of faith than the often perfunctory ‘Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again’, though I am blessed to know many people of faith who have grown up with the new Mass.
Maisie Ward, in her biography of G K Chesterton, has a delightful story that Chesterton loved to tell about the 1932 Congress. The weather was perfect for the whole week but looked as if it might break on the last day. Chesterton met a Dublin 'shawlie' - poor women used to wear shawls, some right up to the 1960s - who said to him, 'If it rains, He'll have brought it on Himself!'
The International Eucharistic Congress has just finished in Quebec City. Quebec was very similar to the Irish Republic forty years ago, with a vibrant Catholic faith permeating society. But in the 1970s there was a huge falling away from the faith in Quebec, as there has been in Ireland over a longer period. I do not know what long-term impact the Congress will have on Quebec or the 2012 Congress on the faith in Ireland.
In May, Archbishop Diarmuid Martin of Dublin appointed a Vicar for Evangelization and has invited all 200 Dublin parishes to join in a common programme of missionary outreach and evangelization for the year 2009. May there be a renewal of faith in these coming years.
