Just back from mass in Monaghan with my family. We got the extra long hour-and-a-half mass. During the sermon the priest told us that our lovely church was built by people who had nothing at the height of the Irish famine because they wanted to say āwe are still hereā. He also talked some shite about the burning of Notre Dame and the abortion referendum, which he called Irelandās Calvary. He said we have to pass on the faith or else the sacrifice of our ancestors during the famine will be for nothing. Despite my pro-choice leanings I found it to be a powerful and eloquent sermon. His message was largely coherent, although he didnāt explain why reproductive choice was so contrary to the good news of Jesus. He said the crucifixion and resurrection were happening in Monaghan in 2019.
It is inevitable that oneās mind will drift during a long mass and in a dreamy daze I looked up at the massive stained glass painting of Jesus on the cross, which is over the altar. I immediately felt deeply moved, almost to the point of tears by the sacrifice this man was making for me. How humbling to see this naked and broken body enduring torture for the suffering of mankind. I had a genuine sense that Jesus was calling to me, although what he wants me to do I donāt know. I prayed intently to Jesus. Love and sorrow poured through me. Then I remembered the shameful things that I have done, that I continue to do and that I will do again. How unworthy are we.
Then I came home and stuffed my face with easter eggs, which is an Easter Saturday tradition in my house because Jesus is already risen once midnight mass is over.
Of course I donāt believe in the supernatural. The Secret Gospel of Saint Mark suggests that Christianity might even have began as a gay sex cult. But what was good about Jesus has survived and what was bad about the man has died. This gives me hope. Whatever you believe in, I hope that your faith in renewed this Easter. May you find meaning in your suffering.
box. E
