The early Christians, we know, were often confused by messages like the one in this morning’s gospel because there is a double message there. The first message Jesus speaks in what’s called apocalyptic language meaning kind of end of the world language, about the sun not shining anymore, the moon not giving its light, the stars falling and then the Son of Man coming and He says “and some of you sitting here you will experience this”. So a lot of the early Christians felt that they would see the end of the world; that they would be there when the curtain would come down. But then at the end of the gospel Jesus says “now wait a second”. When will it all happen? Nobody knows. Not the angels in heaven, nor even the Son, meaning Jesus himself, but only the Father. And so as a result the early Christians we know from their writings were in a state of a lot of confusion. Are things coming to an end, or are they not? Is the curtain coming down, or is it not? During the past week these questions have been very real for me because last Wednesday I got a diagnosis of an invasive form of cancer. So like the early Christians during this past week I have been in a state of some confusion and many different moods and feelings and I’ll just share some of them with you. I’m going to have some more tests during the coming week, so please pray that I may get some good news.
One of the confusions has been that I keep feeling this is happening to somebody else, it’s not happening to me. And one friend from a former parish of mine phoned me and said, “Fr. Declan, you’re the one who goes out and visits the sick, your not the one who is suppose to be sick. I can’t get my head around this.” And I said, “Well, I can’t get my head around it either if you want to know.” I guess that’s called denial. It is called denial. There is no denying this. (Chuckle)
And then, of course, I have been struck by how fragile our life is, that we don’t have any guarantees, that from one moment to another it can end. So there’s been a little bit of sadness going with that because I love life so much. For some reason going through my head has been an old poem that I learned when I was at school and Donie learned when he was at school. Now I must warn you I’m going to read a little bit of it, but it’s Irish so it’s going to be sad. Okay? Got it? (Laughter) Remember what Chesterton had said about the Irish, “All their wars are merry and all their songs are sad.” This is called “The Wayfarer”. It’s by a poet called Padraic Pearse and these are some of the verses:
The beauty of the world hath made me sad,
This beauty that will pass;
Sometimes my heart hath shaken with great joy
To see a leaping squirrel in a tree,
Or a red lady-bird upon a stalk,
Or little rabbits in a field at evening,
Lit by a slanting sun,…
Or children with bare feet upon the sands
Of some ebbed sea, or playing in the streets
Of little towns in Connacht...
And then my heart hath told me:
Tthese will pass,
Will pass and change, will die and be no more,
Things bright and green, things young and happy;
And I have gone upon my way
Sorrowful.
And then after a sadness I have had some feelings, largely because of my faith, as acceptance of whatever may be. And I have to say that I have been supported by such an incredible life spring of prayer and so grateful for that. That has been really important to me. But I felt a feeling of you know, no matter what happens I have had a life teeming with good things. With friends and blessings and adventures of the grace of God. I remembered what Paul said that we live in a tent, our body is a tent, it’s not a permanent dwelling, it’s just temporary; and at the next stage of our journey we get a permanent dwelling.
And then I remember the story about the Rabbi. There was a famous Rabbi in Israel. The people use to come from all over the world to sit at his feet and hear his words. And one visitor came from America, he had a little traveling bag with him, and he was ushered into the presence of the Rabbi. He said, “Rabbi, you have so few possessions.” And the Rabbi looked at his bag and said, “You have very few possessions.” And the visitor said, “Oh, I’m just passing through.” And the Rabbi smiled gently and said, “So am I, so am I.”
But then I went back and I read today’s gospel again and, you know, I saw that even though the words Jesus is using may be talking the ending of things or doom and gloom, but that’s not the mood in which he is saying them. He says when all these things come to pass and when you see all the signs you know that summer is nigh. You know that summer is near. Summer, my favorite season. And so there’s that feeling of exhilaration and emergency coming out of that reading. And what I hear Jesus saying to us is, when you realize the transitory, the passing nature of all things, don’t let it get you down, let it galvanize you into action. So, its time to get moving for me and for you. Time to tell those I love that I love them, to tell those I have hurt that I am sorry, to say thanks to those who have given me so much, and to say a proper good bye when good bye is called for. And even if I live to be 100 years, that exhilaration and that urgency are called for each and every day of my life because I know that summer is nigh.
And finally I will share with you Mavis’s prayer. Ralph and Mavis were parishioners in one of my former parishes and Mavis died four years ago and when Ralph was going through her things he found this prayer in her handwriting. He didn’t know but she must have made this prayer every morning. It’s called “Mavis’s Prayer” and I have been using it a lot.
“Mavis’s Prayer”
Another day is beginning,
no one knows how many days we have left on this earth.
If you want to do something with your life,
start today.
If you want to spend more time with your family,
start today.
If anyone needs your forgiveness,
forgive them today.
And when today is over be at peace knowing
that it was not wasted.
That’s Mavis’s prayer. I guess from now on I’m going to call it “Declan’s Prayer” too. (Applause)
Amen.