Sunday Reflections, 1st Sunday of Lent, Year A, 22 February 2026

Landscape with the Temptation of Christ

Joos de Momper [Web Gallery of Art]

Readings (Jerusalem Bible: Australia, Ireland, New Zealand)

Readings (English Standard Version, Catholic Edition: England & Wales, Scotland, India)

Readings (New American Bible: Philippines, USA)

Gospel Matthew 4:1-11 (English Standard Version, Anglicised)

At that time: Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And after fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.

And the tempter came and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.’ But he answered, ‘It is written, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” ’

Then the devil took him to the holy city and set him on the pinnacle of the Temple and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, “He will command his angels concerning you”, and “On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.” ’ Jesus said to him, ‘Again it is written, “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.” ’

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. And he said to him, ‘All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.’ Then Jesus said to him, ‘Be gone, Satan! For it is written, “You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve.” ’ Then the devil left him, and behold, angels came and were ministering to him.

Léachtaí i nGaeilge

The Venerable Matt Talbot, Dublin

[Wikipedia; photo]

I remember vividly a homily on this gospel when I was in the seminary, around 1965. The preacher was a saintly Columban, Fr Edward McCormack, known to us as ‘Father Ted’, though he was a far cry from the Father Ted in the British comedy TV series about a group of priests in a remote part of Ireland. It wasn’t so much the preacher’s words as the sense of the horror he conveyed of the very idea of Satan trying to tempt Jesus Christ, God who became Man, that struck me and that still remains. Father Ted conveyed to me a sense of the horror of what sin is.

Lent is a time in which we can receive the grace of knowing something of the horror of sin and of the price that our loving God paid in order to save us from being lost in it. Lent is a time when the whole Church prepares to celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus at Easter. We can’t do that without going through Good Friday and all that led to that.

An essential part of going through Lent, and one that involves some pain, is accepting responsibility for our personal sins and asking God’s forgiveness in the sacrament of confession or reconciliation. This is an expression of God’s love for us as sinners, a sacrament in which Jesus gives us the grace to resist the temptations of Satan as he did in the gospel.

One person who understood the depths of God's love in the sacrament of confession was the Venerable Matt Talbot (1856-1925). In the videos above and below the scriptwriter, the late Fr Desmond Forristal of the Archdiocese of Dublin, uses the artistic device of having Matt tell his own story while walking through the streets of Dublin 60 years after his death. It's a device that for me works remarkably well.

Matt Talbot was a Dubliner who had become an alcoholic by the age of 13 or 14 and spent the next fourteen years as a drunkard. He went to the extreme once of stealing a fiddle from a beggar and pawned it to get money for drink. It was his only living, Matt tells us in the video, and I think that was the worst thing I ever did in my life. Matt made many efforts later to trace the beggar but never succeeded.

Yet during his fourteen years of drinking Matt hardly ever missed Sunday Mass, though he didn't receive Holy Communion, and always said a Hail Mary before sleeping. I think that's what saved me in the long run, he tells us.

At the beginning of the second video - each video is less than 15 minutes - Matt, masterfully played by Irish actor Séamus Forde, goes through a soul-wrenching temptation right at Communion time, something that happens the same Sunday morning at Mass in three different churches, a temptation that drives him out of each, until he falls on his knees outside one of them and prays Jesus, mercy; Mary help, a prayer that most Dubliners would have been familiar with.

Matt Talbot

The second video shows Matt sending a donation to the Maynooth Mission to China, as the Columbans were first known in Ireland, some time in the mid-1920s. The note he enclosed is in the Columban archives. The amount, one pound from himself and ten shillings (half of a pound) from his sister, was considerable for poor people.

Towards the end of the video Matt speaks of the things God had asked him to do. He put these thoughts in my mind when I was praying - and I knew they came from him. Only the priest in confession knew about these special things, small things God wanted me to do. They weren't for anybody else.

Among the special things, small things were the chains he wore on certain occasions. It was these very chains, found on his body when he died, that led to people asking questions about me . . . God must have wanted it that way . . . using me to say something to people today, now.

Lent is a gift that God gives the Church each year, a personal gift to each member of the Church, a time when he wants to put these thoughts in my mind when I am praying.

During his life Matt Talbot was the farthest thing imaginable from the 'celebrities' of today. In the 100 years since his death in 1925 he has given hope to many, especially persons struggling with alcoholism and other addictions. 

Will I allow God this Lent to put whatever thoughts he wants to in my mind by giving him time in prayer? Will I allow him, as Mary did when she said Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word, to use me to say something to people today, now?

Will I fall on my knees in moments of great temptation, as Matt did during the terrible struggle he had right at Communion time three times on that one Sunday morning, perhaps reflecting the three temptations of the Lord in today's gospel, and plead Jesus, mercy, Mary help? 

Will I allow myself to experience God's merciful love for me as a sinner through the sacrament of confession as Matt did?

They thought I was missing the good things in life. But God gave me the best part - and he never took it away.

St Francis Xavier Church, Gardiner St, Dublin 

[Wikipedia; photo]

Dubliners refer to older churches by their street names rather than by their patronal names. The church above, which Matt calls 'Gardiner Street church', is that of the Jesuits. Matt also refers a number of times to the 'chapel' in Seville Place, the Church of St Laurence O'Toole, once Archbishop of Dublin and now one  of its two patron saints of the city and archdiocese, the other being St Kevin. This is another old Dublin usage, calling a church a 'chapel'. The accent and idioms of Matt in the two videos are pure Dublin. 

When I was a child my mother, when 'going into town', i.e. into the city centre, would sometimes go through Granby Lane and we'd pray at the spot where Matt died. Everyone in Dublin then knew who Matt Talbot was. I'm not so sure about today.

You can discover more about this wonderful man, venerated by many struggling with alcoholism and other addictions, here and by googling.

Snowdrops, St Columban's Dalgan Park

19 February 2023

Pope St Leo the Great

Office of Readings, Thursday after Ash Wednesday

Dearly beloved, the earth is always filled with the mercy of the Lord. For every one of us Christians nature is full of instruction that we should worship God. The heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is within them, proclaim the goodness and the almighty power of their maker. The wonderful beauty of these inferior elements of nature demands that we, intelligent beings, should give thanks to God.

Traditional Latin Mass

First Sunday in Lent

The Complete Mass in Latin and English is here. (Adjust the date at the top of that page to 02-22-2026 if necessary).

Epistle: 2 Corinthians 6:1-10. Gospel: Matthew 4:1-11.

Apostle St Paul

El Greco [Web Gallery of Art]

Working together with him, then, we entreat you not to accept the grace of God in vain (2 Corinthians 6:1-10; Epistle).

 

 

           

 

                                                      

Memories of my Auntie Madge at Christmas

 

Auntie Madge (Margaret Collins)

Taken by a street photographer, probably Arthur Fields, on O'Connell Bridge, Dublin, late 1940s.

(Please excuse the format of the photo!)

 

Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town

Written by J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie

Arranged by Jim Clements

Sung by Voces8

My Auntie Madge (Margaret Collins) would have been ten or eleven when this song first appeared in 1934 and no doubt heard Santa Claus is Coming to Town many times. But she never heard the marvellous arrangement by Voces8, the British choral ensemble that I often use in Sunday Reflections, here singing a different kind of music from their largely religious repertoire.

Auntie Madge was the youngest of my mother's six sisters Jennie, Nan, Neita, Bridie, Eileen and Madge. I'm not sure where Bridie, who died in infancy, came in the sequence but I often heard my mother, Mary, talking about her. Three boys, Mick, Paddy and Jack, completed the family of my maternal grandparents, William Patrick Collins and Annie Dowd. My grandfather died early in 1945 when I was nearly two but I don't have any memories of him, though I am happy that he knew me, his third grandchild, and that he held me. He was only 59 when he died of lung cancer. Paddy came home f rom England when Madge was dying, stayed for a few months, as I recall, before going back there. However, he didn't keep in touch. Efforts by my mother and later by myself to trace him yielded no results. 

My first experience of the death of someone close to me was that of Auntie Madge at the age of 26 on 3 February 1950. I was a few months short of seven. She had rheumatic fever when she was twelve and it caught up with her in January 1950. I remember my mother and father, John, taking turns, along with my aunts, in spending nights in my grandmother's house when Madge was in her last illness. My father was with her when she died. I heard him say, If Madge doesn't get to heaven there's not much chance for the rest of us. That was his way of saying that she was very loving and caring to those around her.

My mother, God bless her, took me to the wake in my grandmother's home in Blackhall Place, Dublin, where the family had grown up. I still remember that vividly.

Auntie Madge wasn't married but had a boyfriend. Years later I learned from my mother that he also had another girlfriend who died and never married. We often have no idea of the sadness in people's lives.

Blackhall Place, Dublin

My grandmother's house, where Madge lived and died, was a few doors to the right of those in the photo. 

I have many happy memories of my Auntie Madge who was tall and pretty. One I treasure is her taking three of us cousins, Joan Martin, Auntie Neita's eldest, Billy Kiernan who died some years ago, Auntie Nan's first-born and myself, all born in 1943, to Pims department store in South Great George's Street in Dublin to meet Santa Claus. That was either in December 1949, shortly before Madge's death, or the year before that. I don't remember specifically meeting Santa on that occasion but what I recall vividly is riding on a 'train' with Joan and Billy. We were in a carriage, the 'train' rocking and the 'scenery' flashing by on the outside. When I was somewhat older I realised that this was on some kind of large spool. That lovely memory has stayed with me down the years.

My Auntie Eileen, who was my mother's bridesmaid and my godmother, was married the summer after Madge's death. This was my first time to attend a wedding and the reception was in the one-storey terraced house where her husband, Willie Gallagher, had grown up. I was surprised when Auntie Eileen began to cry, as I thought you were supposed to be happy at your own wedding. A child doesn't always put two-and-two together and years later I realised that she was still grieving for her sister  Madge. Willie's sister Mona, who introduced her only brother to my Auntie Eileen, died last year about a month after turning 103, the last of my parents' generation in our wider family circle. 

Mona Gallagher Rogers on her 100th birthday, 2021

A Christmas song I associate with Auntie Madge is one that is unabashedly a tearjerker: The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot, published in England in 1937 and made popular by Vera Lynn. (Nat King Cole had a hit with it in 1953, I think.) I must have heard Auntie Madge sing it or talk about it. It was one of the most popular Christmas songs when I was a child. The little boy wrote a note to Santa for some soldiers and a drum. The soldiers in question were made from lead, were about 7 cms high and many little boys got some from Santa.

In the photo at the top Auntie Madge looks very serious, almost severe, but my memories of her are of her smiles and her kindness. The photo of Very Lynn in the video below reminds me of her, especially the hairstyle from the 1940s.

The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot

Sung by Vera Lynn

Auntie Madge never forgot the 'little boy' who is typing this. And he still remembers her fondly and misses her almost 76 years after her untimely death. And he feels sorry for his younger cousins who never knew their Auntie Madge. One of them is named after her.

Rest in peace, Auntie Madge, and may we meet in heaven.

There we hope to enjoy for ever the fullness of your glory, when you will wipe away every tear from our eyes. For seeing you, our God, as you are, we shall be like you for all the ages and praise you without end (from Eucharistic Prayer III when used at Masses for the dead).

Christmas Memories of my Auntie Madge

 

Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town

Written by J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie

Arranged by Jim Clements

Sung by Voces8

My Auntie Madge (Margaret Collins) would have been ten or eleven when this song first appeared in 1934. But she never heard the marvellous arrangement above of the song that has just been issued by Voces8, the British choir that I have often used in Sunday Reflections, singing a different kind of music.

Auntie Madge was the youngest of my mother's six sisters Jennie, Nan, Neita, Bridie, Eileen and Madge. I'm not sure where Bridie, who died in infancy, came in the sequence but I often heard my mother, Mary, talking about her. Three boys, Mick, Paddy and Jack, completed the family of my maternal grandparents, William Patrick Collins and Annie Dowd. My grandfather died early in 1945 when I was nearly two but I don't have any memories of him, though I am happy that he knew me, his third grandchild, and that he held me. He was only 59 when he died of lung cancer.

My first experience of the death of someone close to me was that of Auntie Madge on 3 February 1950 at the age of 26. I was a few months short of seven. She had rheumatic fever when she was twelve and it caught up with her in January 1950. I remember my mother and father, John, taking turns, along with my aunts, in spending nights in my grandmother's house when Madge was in her last illness. My father was with her when she died. I heard him say, If Madge doesn't get to heaven there's not much chance for the rest of us. That was his way of saying that she was a particularly kind and caring person.

My mother, God bless her, took me to the wake in my grandmother's home in Blackhall Place, Dublin, where the family had grown up. I still remember that vividly.

Auntie Madge wasn't married but had a boyfriend. Years later I learned from my mother that he also had another girlfriend who died and never married. We often have no idea of the sadness in people's lives.

Blackhall Place, Dublin

My grandmother's house was the sixth to the right of the house with the white door.

I have many happy memories of my Auntie Madge who was tall and pretty. One I treasure is her taking three of us cousins, Joan Martin, Auntie Neita's eldest, Billy Kiernan, Auntie Nan's first-born and myself, all born in 1943, to Pims department store in South Great George's Street in Dublin to meet Santa Claus. That was either in December 1949, shortly before her death, or the year before that. I don't remember specifically meeting Santa on that occasion but what I recall vividly is riding on a 'train' with Joan and Billy. We were in a carriage, the 'train' rocking and the 'scenery' flashing by on the outside. When I was somewhat older I realised that this was on some kind of large spool. That lovely memory has stayed with me down the years.

My Auntie Eileen, who was my mother's bridesmaid and my godmother, was married the following summer. This was my first wedding and the reception was held in the one-storey terraced house where her husband, Willie Gallagher, had grown up. I was surprised when Auntie Eileen began to cry, as I thought you were supposed to be happy at your own wedding. A child doesn't always put two-and-two together and years later I realised that she was still grieving for her sister  Madge. Willie's sister Mona, who introduced her brother to my Auntie Eileen - they were both hairdressers - turned 101 last September, the only one of my parents' generation still living.

A Christmas song I associate with Auntie Madge is one that is unabashedly a tearjerker: The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot, published in England in 1937 and made popular by Vera Lynn. (Nat King Cole had a hit with it in 1953, I think.) I must have heard Auntie Madge sing it or talk about it. It was one of the most popular Christmas songs when I was a child. The little boy wrote a note to Santa for some soldiers and a drum. The soldiers in question were made from lead, were about 7 cms high and many little boys got some from Santa.

I don't have any photos of Auntie Madge with me here but the black and white photo of Very Lynn in the video below reminds me of her, especially the hairstyle from the 1940s.

The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot

Sung by Vera Lynn

Auntie Madge never forgot the 'little boy' who is typing this. And he still remembers her fondly and misses her almost 73 years after her untimely death. And he feels sorry for his younger cousins who never knew their Auntie Madge. One of them is named after her.

Rest in peace, Auntie Madge, and may we meet in heaven.

There we hope to enjoy for ever the fullness of your glory, when you will wipe away every tear from our eyes. For seeing you, our God, as you are, we shall be like you for all the ages and praise you without end (from Eucharistic Prayer III when used at Masses for the dead).

'Jesus, mercy; Mary, help.' Sunday Reflections, 1st Sunday of Lent, Year A

The Tempation of Christ, Juan de Flandes [Web Gallery of Art]

Readings (New American Bible: Philippines, USA)

Readings (Jerusalem Bible: Australia, England & Wales, India [optional], Ireland, New Zealand, Pakistan, Scotland, South Africa)

Gospel Matthew 4:1-11 (New Revised  Standard Version, Anglicised Catholic Edition) 

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.’ But he answered, ‘It is written,

“One does not live by bread alone,
    but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”’

Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written,

“He will command his angels concerning you”,
    and “On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.”’

Jesus said to him, ‘Again it is written, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”’

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour; and he said to him, ‘All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Away with you, Satan! for it is written,

“Worship the Lord your God,
    and serve only him.”’

Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

Matt Talbot statue, Dublin [Wikipedia]

I remember vividly a homily given on the First Sunday in Lent in St Columban's College, Dalgan Park, the Columban seminary in Ireland where I studied from 1961 to 1968, by the late Fr Edward McCormack, who taught us Latin. We all recognised Father Ted, as we called him, as a saintly man. It was clear from his preaching that he was experiencing something of the horror of the very idea of the Devil tempting Jesus, God who became man. It was as if the very soul of Father Ted was shuddering.

Matt Talbot was a Dubliner who had become an alcoholic by the age of 13 or 14 and spent the next fourteen years as a drunkard. He went to the extreme once of stealing a fiddle (violin) from a beggar and pawned it to get money for drink. It was his only living, Matt tells us in the video, and I think that was the worst thing I ever did in my life. Matt made many efforts later to trace the beggar but never succeeded.

Yet during his fourteen years of drinking Matt hardly ever missed Sunday Mass, though he didn't receive Holy Communion, and always said a Hail Mary before sleeping. I think that's what saved me in the long run, he tells us.

At the beginning of the second video Matt, masterfully played by Irish actor Seamus Forde, goes through a soul-wrenching temptation right at Communion time, something that happens the same Sunday morning at Mass in three different churches, a temptation that drives him out of each, until he falls on his knees outside one of them and prays Jesus, mercy; Mary help, a prayer that most Dubliners would have been familiar with. Perhaps Jesus had called Matt to share in the experience of his three temptations in the desert.

Matt Talbot towards the end of his life [Wikipedia]

The second video shows Matt sending a donation to the Maynooth Mission to China, as the Columbans were first known in Ireland, some time in the mid-1920s. The note he enclosed is in the Columban archives in Ireland. [A Columban priest told me recently that the original is now in Rome, with a copy in Ireland.] The amount, one pound from himself and ten shillings (half of a pound) from his sister, was considerable for poor people.

Towards the end of the video Matt speaks of the things God had asked him to do. He put these thoughts in my mind when I was praying - and I knew they came from him. Only the priest in confession knew about these special things, small things God wanted me to do. They weren't for anybody else.

Among the special things, small things were the chains he wore on certain occasions. It was these very chains, found on his body when he died, that led to people asking questions about me . . . God must have wanted it that way . . . using me to say something to people today, now.

Lent is a gift that God gives the Church each year, a personal gift to each member of the Church, a time when he wants to put these thoughts in my mind when I am praying.

Matt Talbot was the farthest thing imaginable from the 'celebrities' of today during his life. In the more than 90 years since his death he has given hope to many, especially persons struggling with alcoholism and other addictions. 

Will I allow God this Lent to put whatever thoughts he wants to in my mind by giving him time in prayer? Will I allow him, as Mary did when she said Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word, to use me to say something to people today, now?

Will I fall on my knees in moments of great temptation, as Matt did during the terrible struggle he had right at Communion time three times on the one Sunday morning, perhaps reflecting the three temptations of the Lord in today's gospel, and plead Jesus, mercy, Mary help?

They thought I was missing the good things in life. But God gave me the best part - and he never took it away.

St Francis Xavier Church, Gardiner St, Dublin [Wikipedia]

Dubliners refer to churches by their street names rather than by their patronal names. The church above, which Matt calls 'Gardiner Street church', is that of the Jesuits. Matt also refers a number of times to the 'chapel' in Seville Place, the Church of St Laurence O'Toole, once Archbishop of Dublin. This is another old Dublin usage, calling a church a 'chapel'. The accent and idioms of Matt in the two videos are pure Dublin. 

When I was a child my mother, when 'going into town', ie into the city centre, would sometimes go through Granby Lane and we'd pray at the spot where Matt died. Everyone in Dublin then knew who Matt Talbot was. I'm not so sure about today.

You can discover more about this wonderful man at the Dublin Diocesan Matt Talbot website and by googling, especially on YouTube.

The Annunciation, El Greco [Web Gallery of Art]

Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word (Luke 1:38).

Columban Fr Terence Twohig RIP

Fr Terence (Traolach) Twohig

(16 April 1938 - 30 March 2016)

Fr Terence P. F. Twohig, known as 'Terry', was born in Donnycarney, Dublin on 16 April 1938. 

Our Lady of Consolation Church, Donnycarney [Website]

He was educated at St Patrickʼs National School, Drumcondra, Coláiste Mhuire, Parnel Square, and Mount St Josephʼs College, Roscrea. He entered the Columban seminary, St Columban's, College, Dalgan Park, Ireland, in September 1956 and was ordained priest on 21 December 1962.

St Columban, Mount St Joseph's, Roscrea

Stained glass window by Harry Clarke (1931)

Appointed to the Philippines in 1963, he was assigned to Mindanao. He served in Dumalinao, Kapatagan and Kolambugan, before being assigned to Ireland for three years on promotion work. 

Lake Lanaw from Marawi City [Wikipedia]

On his return to Mindanao he served in Kolambugan, Kiwalan and Iligan City. He then spent the next ten years in parishes in the Prelature of Marawi, where around 95 per cent of the people are Muslims, in Marawi City, Malabang and Karomatan (now Sultan Naga Dimaporo). For part of that time he lived in a Muslim village in order to learn the Maranao language, spoken by the majority of Muslims in the two Lanao provinces, and become closer to the people. This was a difficult time for Father Terry.

A Muslim friend later wrote to him, Father we really miss you back here. You have been a wonderful man to us, better than any good Muslim has been. We really needed help, and the help unexpectedly came from you who have been accused by our folk as an adversary . . . I want you to know that there are Muslims, pure Muslims, who appreciate your work. Should I have the opportunity I would work, and be proud of working, side by side with you, to  bring justice and peace to both our peoples.

In 1990, Father Terry spent a sabbatical year in Birmingham, England, doing  Islamic Studies. On his return to the Philippines, he spent three years in Pagadian Diocese. 

On hearing of Fr Terry's death, Sultan Maguid Maruhom, a Muslim friend in Pagadian, sent this message that was read at the end of the funeral Mass: I am very sad to know that Fr Terry Twohig passed away yesterday in Ireland. As I pray for his soul, I and my family also extend our heartfelt condolences to his family and to the Columban Fathers. Father Terry was a good man who spent long years of his life in the Philippines, particularly in Mindanao, to serve our people with abundance of heart and help sow the seeds of peace in this part of the world. I am one of his Muslim friends whom he had much inspired to take the challenge in bridging understanding and building peace between people of different faiths. One thing that made him very close to my heart was that in my time of great trouble this good man always came to help and console me. He never abandoned me as a friend despite the risk. Though he may have left us for good, I am sure my memory of him will always stay. Indeed he was a friend I will never forget and he will inspire me forever.

St Joseph's Church, Balcurris, Ballymun, Dublin

Assigned once again to Ireland, he spent ten happy years with the people of Ballymun. On 16 May 1998 while he was celebrating Mass for 60 children making their First Holy Communion a shooting incident took place in the church. In his homily at the funeral, Fr Donal Hogan noted: Of course Terry later visited the gunman in jail a number of times – ever the merciful one – indeed the Christ-like one. 

RTÉ report on shooting in St Joseph’s Church

Am important part of Father Terry's life was his involvement with the Jesus Caritas Fraternity of Priests, in Mindanao and later in Dublin, inspired by the spirituality of Blessed Charles de Foucauld.

Failing health forced Father Terry to the Dalgan Nursing Home in 2004. He was a gentle, good-humoured man, always interested in people. A very committed missionary, he made every effort to reach out to the Muslims of Mindanao, knowing that only the witness of true Christian charity would, and did indeed, make an impression on them. 

Father Terry died on 30 March 2016.May he rest in peace. Surely goodness and kindness shall follow me . . . (Psalm 23 [22]:6, Grail translation).

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam uasal. May his noble soul be at the right hand of God.

St Columban's Cemetery, Dalgan Park

Prayer of Abandonment
Blessed Charles de Foucauld

Father,

I abandon myself into your hands;

do with me what you will.

Whatever you may do, I thank you:

I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me,

and in all your creatures –

I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul:

I offer it to you with all the love of my heart,

for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself,

to surrender myself into your hands without reserve,

and with boundless confidence,

for you are my Father.

A Proud Dubliner

Like most Irish people, Father Terry had a strong attachment to his native county/city. No doubt this was part of the strong sense of rootedness that enabled him to reach out to Muslims in Mindanao. During his funeral Mass his battered Breviary and a Dublin shirt were brought up as symbols of his life.

Members of the Dublin Gaelic Football team [Dublin GAA]

At the end of the burial of a Catholic in Ireland a decade of the Rosary is prayed.  And after that at the burial of a Columban the Salve Regina is sung. At Father Terry's funeral another song was added, Molly Malone (Cockles and Mussels), the theme song of Dubliners, especially those from the city. Father Terry probably never heard this recent version in Dutch, sung by Ancora, but I'm sure he would have enjoyed it.