40 YEARS ON

I can remember clearly the beat of Mungo Jerry singing ‘In the Summer Time’ on the radio as we drove to Maynooth. It was a bright optimistic day in September 1966 when we signed in. The Dean, Fr Paddy Muldoon, gathered us in Callan Hall for the beginning of our induction in the ways of Mother Church. I remember his words exactly: ‘Good morning, gentlemen, welcome to Maynooth. My job is to get rid of half of you’. After that, you couldn’t but feel welcome. I was one of 84 young men who entered Maynooth College to study for the diocesan priesthood. Seven years later, in 1973, over 50 of us were ordained. As I told you last week - but ran out of space- around 40 of us recently returned to Maynooth to celebrate 40 years. The priest-poet, P. J. Daly, put it like this:

‘We began in bright certainty / Your will was a master plan /lying open before us. Sunlight blessed us, / Fields of birds sang for us, / Rainfall was your kindness tangible. / But our dream was flawed; /And we hold it now / Not in ecstasy but in dogged loyalty.’’

But back to Fr Muldoon, he explained to us what we could and couldn’t do; where we could and couldn’t go; when we could talk and when we were to keep silent.

Rules were sacrosanct: ‘Keep the Rule and the Rule will keep you’. You could drink water in your room but Mi-Wadi was banned. If a visitor came to your room, you were to leave the door open. And when you signed your name, it must always be ‘Thomas, Richard or Patrick ’, not ‘Tom, Dick or Paddy as I had written, and he found on examination of the entrance book. In the early years students were expelled for simply having a newspaper in their room! The rules eased a lot in time. In 7 years Maynooth changed beyond recognition. Now lay students had joined us. Religious orders and missionary societies sent their students to study with us- all so enriching. There were indeed difficult days of doubt and uncertainty- especially when a friend would leave to pursue another course in life. The photo attached was taken at one of our happier times. I am sitting in front . You may recognise other faces such as Frs Colm Clerkin, David O Kane, Tom O Gara, Charlie Keaney, Michael Doherty, Andy Mc Closkey, Neil Mc Goldrick, Paddy Doherty

Seven years later, after a long period of immersion in the clerical caste system and keeping my head low so as not to draw too much attention, I left to be ordained in Moville , and with a reasonable sense of optimism for the future. We were told that change was on the way. We had a copy of the Bible in one hand and the documents of Vatican Two in the other.

Times were different . A survey that year of ’73 indicated that 92% of Irish Catholics were at Mass every Sunday. Seminaries were teeming with vocations. The Vietnam war had ended but Bloody Sunday had just taken place here in Derry. When I arrived the sting of CS gas still stung the air together with the trauma of Bloody Sunday.

Forty years on we live in a different world. A fragile peace brings hope of a better tomorrow but the shame and agony and mismanagement of the sex abuse scandals have demoralised many good priests - we have all been tainted . And as regards the fall- off from faith practice I wonder if what served the past, will still serve the future.

In answer to the question ‘why stay on in the priesthood or indeed the Catholic church?’ I have found this priest’s answer helpful.

‘’Let me make an uncommonly honest confession.

In the course of half a century, I have seen more Catholic corruption that you have read about. I have tasted it. I have been reasonable corrupt myself. And yet I joy in this Church- This living, pulsing, sinning people of God.

Why? For all the Catholic hate, I experience here a community of love. For all the institutional idiocy, I find here a tradition of reason .For all the individual repressions, I breathe here an air of freedom.

For all the fear of sex I discover here the redemption of my body. In an age so inhuman, I touch here tears of compassion. In a world so grim and humourless,

I share here rich joy and earthy laughter.

In the midst of death, I hear here an incomparable stress on life. For all the apparent absence of God I discover here the real presence of Christ

(Walter Burghardt.S.J.)

We might have wished for a fairer wind and less troubled seas but God for his (or her) own reasons thought otherwise. We do the best we can. It’s all God ever expects. Looking back, the trip has been at times difficult and disappointing but in general, it has been rewarding and good.

Forty years on from that innocent June morning in Moville – when in the sacristy before Mass an elderly Bishop Farren asked me who I was!- I give thanks to God for his goodness, the support and the love of the people I have served and the kindness of friends.

Thought for the week

Life is not a problem to be solved, but a gift to be enjoyed.

Joke

A sign I am thinking of putting on my front door:

‘Out of my mind – will be back in 5 minutes’