Masses Today

6.30 Bridie & Ed Mayne, (Anniv)
9.00 May Fahy, (Anniv).
11.00 Thomas Drinkwater, Whitehall (Anniv)
12.15 Margaret Lydon, Lr. Abbeygate St (Anniv)
6.30 Murt Coyne, (Anniv)

AS I WAS SAYING...

Today, the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, prompts some reflection on Baptism and the way we celebrate it in this Church. Baptism is the foundation of the Christian life. Yet I, as pastor, treat the sacrament in an almost slip-shod manner. In truth, people show up at the door for baptism whom I do not know. I do try to establish their circumstances through giving them a form to complete: name and age of baby, name of parents, address, marital status. They are then asked to come along on the appointed day, armed only with a christening shawl, a baptismal candle, and of course the baby! Apart from that, no demands are made, no teachings given to the struggling young couple, or -more frequently now- the struggling young woman. We take great care in preparing people for the other sacraments: First Communion, Confirmation, Marriage, Priesthood. Baptism is something of a Cinderella in this respect.

There's something amiss about this, but the local picture is rather complex. We are an 'old' parish in a demographic sense. We don't have babies 'of our own'! Hence our baptisms are sporadic. Younger parishes have fixed programmes of preparation, and fixed times for communal baptisms. One of my fears is that those who show up for baptism in St. Augustine's would be 'refugees' from these preparation programmes in their own parishes. (Obviously, those whose families attend St. Augustine's on a regular basis would fall into a different category). On one level, this practice causes some real problems. Vatican II emphasised the fact that the baby is baptised into a particular community. That community then will 'look out for' the welfare of the baby in every sense. Are they coming to St. Augustine's because they feel themselves 'outsiders' in their own communities? Are we doing anything for their faith by facilitating the baptism of their baby here?

Twenty-seven infants were baptised in the church here in 2001. (Incidentally, nine were born to unmarried people.) None were 'natives' of the 'canonical' parish. Yet, if you went through the family background, all twenty seven had some connection or other -sometimes tenuous- with St. Augustine's: mum and dad were married here, a sister had her child christened here, grand dad was buried from here, granny knew Fr. Power. The christening shawl is an ample garment: like charity, it covers a multitude of sins! These people were not complete strangers. Their faith, however weak or confused, had a root or two in St. Augustine's. Instinctually, I would be very reluctant to 'crush the bruised reed nor quench the wavering flame.'

A diocesan priest friend of mine once said, 'Lyng, you would baptise a cat if he showed up in the Auggie below on a Sunday morning.' While I know what he was saying, I don't think he quite understood what I was doing. Sacramentally, we priests are in positions of great power. That power can be used either positively, or negatively. The lifestyle of the parents may not be to my liking. But what do I know about the quality of their love for each other? Babies open up mysteries, and hearts. Like death, birth demands a 'rite of passage'. God hovers over the baptismal font. We should be very slow to deny his people the chance to meet him there.

-D. L.


EVENTS THIS WEEK


CHRISTMAS DUES

We never made much of the Christmas Dues here. Our parish is very small geographically, and our main source of income is the Priory Office and the shrines in the church. Three years ago, I visited a parishioner in the post-Christmas period. I wanted to see him in any case, because I regard him as something of a friend! He answered the door in his stockings: "I'm here for the Christmas Dues", I demanded with a serious face. His response was immediate and brilliant: "God, Father, I don't cost ye much. I don't exactly wear out the carpet on ye!" I recognised defeat when I saw it and I joined him upstairs for a glass!

I had time on my hands during the week, so I went back over the finance books for the last ten years. Below you will find the results of that research. The figure in brackets represent the percentage increase or decrease on the year previous. A clear pattern is visible, with a glitch in 1999. The reason for that glitch is simple enough: Anne Marie Kennedy was snowed under in the Office during the two weeks prior to Christmas. (I had been held prisoner in the Confession Box since late November!!) She normally addressed the envelopes, enclosed a calendar, together with a Christmas message and a 'Programme of Events' for the Christmas period. (She used actually walk the streets, noting down the businesses that had changed hands in the course of the year). These were then sent to every house and business in the Parish. It was a huge undertaking, given the fact that she was already looking after the office and the finance books for the house.

In 1999 however, she simply didn't get around to doing that. But a clear pattern has emerged: a rising graph is discernible. I guess it reflects a strong measure of support for what we have been trying to do here over the past five years.

1991: £3,003.00

1992: £2,595.00 (-13.58%)

1993: £2,445.00 (-5.78%)

1994: £2,525.00 (3.27%)

1995: £2,275.00 (-9.90%)

1996: £2,715.00 (19.34%)

1997: £2918.00 (7.47%)

1998: £5,068.00 (73.68%)

1999: £3,203.00 (-36.79%)

2000: £5,531.00 (72.68%)

2001: £7,538.00 (36.28%)

Thank you very much for your great generosity.


A PRAYER FOR SLEEP

Michael Hartnett was born in Limerick in 1941 and died in Dublin in October 1999. He wrote with equal facility in both Irish and English, and he was a member of Aosdana.

Seamus Heaney noted his 'focus and intensity...he followed his own impulse and never had his eye on any audience.' His 'Prayer for Sleep' was his last poem:

Grant me good rest tonight, O Lord;
let no creatures prowl the tangled pathways in my skull:
wipe out all wars,
throw guilt a bone;
let me dream, if I dream at all,
no child of Yours has come to harm.
I know, of course, that death's the norm,
that there are people who have yet to climb
the Present's rungs, who lag behind
(hyenas at the rim of civilisation's light),
whose laughing hides a Stone Age howl,
who wait till darkness comes to pounce
and tear the guts of progress out.
Yet, grant me good rest tonight, my Lord,
blind my internal eyes;
guard my anxious baffled years
with Your protecting arm
and let me dream, if I dream at all,
no child of Yours has come to harm.


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