“I hear you’re a surrogate father now, Father.”

From Miriam Lord’s column in The IrishTimes yesterday. 

On Wednesday, Senator Rónán Mullen had a lot to say during the remaining stages of the landmark Bill on surrogacy and assisted human reproduction.He would be talking still if it hadn’t been guillotined.

 “On this issue of surrogacy, the mainstream media in this country has been the dog that has not barked, and it has failed, largely speaking, to shine a light on the Government’s bizarre, cruel and perverse proposals such as the ones I have just described. The reason for that is simple. It is always easier to focus on real- life human interest stories and we have celebrities who have obtained children through celibacy,” he declared, before realising his slip of the tongue.

“Celibacy? Celibacy? Good lord,” he exclaimed. “Surrogacy!” he shouted with a laugh. Fine Gael’s Mary Seery Kearney interjected: “They are allowed have children as well.”

Rónán chuckled: “But of course, it does allow it, actually, through celibacy, now that you mention it. But you have this bizarre situation where high-profile people have been able and enabled to have children through surrogacy.”

Celibate dads, says Rónán.

To paraphrase that famous line from Father Ted: “I hear you’re a surrogate father now, Father.”

Biden Trump debate is a win for vulgarity, crudity and lies

The Biden Trump duel on Thursday evening was a train crash for Joe Biden, the Democrats and maybe democracy. It certainly was a win for vulgarity, lies and crudity.

Up until now there were many who thought things were not that bad but after the CNN debate it’s clear they are, and worse.

How has the US got to this? But the advance of such a crude and vulgar politics is happening worldwide.

On Thursday evening Channel 4 news filmed a reporter going undercover with a Reform UK canvasser. It was draw dropping. The canvasser’s views on muslims, foreigners, gay people are unprintable.

In 1988 Gary Hart was forced to pull out of the Democratic presidential nomination amid revelations of extramarital affairs. 

Thirty six years later a convicted criminal is likely to be the next US president, and then there is his long sex career and all of what he has said about and to women.

And in the UK Nigel Farage is likely on Tursday to win a parliamentary seat.

What about US Secretary of State Antony Blinker as the Democrat nomination for US presidency.

Below is the link to Thursday’s CNN Biden Trump debate.

https://www.youtube.com/live/qqG96G8YdcE?si=SFqHqiJ3ioMTgCQh

Pilots strike while bosses give themselves 66% raise

Over the last number of days we have been given detailed figures of the pay structure of Aer Lingus pilots. 

Ialpa president, Mark Tighe has clearly explained why pilots are looking for a 24 per cent pay increase. 

He has also told the public on many media outlets that the executives of Aer Lingus gave themselves a pay increase of over 66 per cent earlier this year.

On the other hand, is Ialpa aware of how much people on the lowest Aer Lingus pay grade earn?

The divide between rich and poor grows with every pay rise.

And all the time not a word about the pay scales Ryanair pays its pilots.

AIB/GAA advert carries a dangerous and racist message

This AIB/GAA ad surely is all

wrong and it is surprising in the current atmosphere that neither the bank nor GAA sees how inappropriate it is.

The word blood has shocking racist connotations about it. Wasn’t that part of the Hitler bible? And not just nazi terror.

What actually is ‘in our blood’? In whose ‘blood’ is it absent? Is it in our blood that we are ‘the toughest’. If that what is insinuated, then it is outrageous, dangerous and nasty.

And not a whisper of  objection to the ad among the public or across the media.

Why is that?

Samuel Johnson spot on on the horror of dull people

Johnson was a genius. This is a

brilliant quote. Just think of all the times you are bored out of your mind listening and watching people who are profoundly dull, talking nonsense and all the time thinking they are important.  Hilarious too and so true.

Thank you Mr Johnson. 

He  is not only dull himself; he is the cause of  dullness in  others.

-  Samuel Johnson (1709 - 1784)

Gay choir and Callan’s Vatican comments

This week’s Mediahuis Irish regional newspapers’ column.

Michael Commane

On the first week after his return from a few days off air Oliver Callan was making jokes about the Vatican. 

Maybe they were not jokes but at one stage he referred to the Vatican as being an ‘enclave of total corruption, and the largest homophobic organisation in the world’. And just as he said it I stopped what I was doing and found myself agreeing and disagreeing with him. 

What he said was hurtful to many people. I felt hurt. Imagine if he were to say that about the Anglican Communion, Judaism, the Muslim faith, any religious organisation under the sun, indeed any company, corporation, any grouping? There would be an immediate outcry and no doubt he would have had to apologise. 

At the time of writing RTÉ has made no comment whatsoever about what Oliver Callan said. And that’s typical too. If there had been an outcry and the general consensus had been that what he said was inappropriate and wrong, no doubt RTÉ would be out there wiping off their crocodile tears.

Oliver has no idea whatsoever if the Vatican is the largest homophobic organisation in the world. Does he know every single organisation in the world? One could argue that he has defamed the Vatican. His comments could indeed make it to the courts.

Two days later on the Claire Byrne Show the country was told about the cancellation of a gay choir, singing in St Andrew’s Church on Dublin’s Westland Row, the church that the archbishop had planned to designate a cathedral. Those plans were dropped and there are plans afoot to give it the title basilica. 

Difficult to know what that was all about.

Claire Byrne spoke with Patrick McNamara of the Dublin Gay Men’s Chorus about the cancellation of the choral performance in St Andrew’s. He said the arrangement was made over the phone in April and then on June 11 the parish contacted him to say the concert  could not take place in St Andrew's.

What is it about the Catholic Church that when it comes to spreading the Word of God it seldom if ever can gets across its message in a manner which is people-friendly? 

Also what would be wrong or distasteful in a gay choir singing in a Catholic church? As Mr McNamara said, they had on a previous occasion sung in St Teresa’s parish church in Dublin’s Donore Avenue.

What’s going on, what’s happening with the message of the Gospel?

I remember when I was a young man a woman was refused absolution. She left the church and called to the priory and asked to speak with a priest. The prior came down to her. She explained what happened. 

They both went back to the church and he administered the Sacrament to the woman.

When it comes to many topical issues the Catholic Church seems right now to be at sea. I keep getting the impression it is constantly talking out of both sides of its mouth at the same time.

Maybe that’s why when I heard Oliver Callan say what he said I was agreeing and disagreeing with him.

The precious life is everything

 “The best of life is lived quietly, where nothing happens but our calm journey through the day, where change is imperceptible and the precious life is everything”.

- John McGahern

Fr Thomas Kearns OP (1939 - 2024)

Dominican priest Thomas Kearns died in Marymount

Hospice, Cork on Friday.

He was born in Newbridge and was a nephew of the late Dominican scripture scholar, Fr Conleth Kearns.

He was a day-boy at Newbridge College, joining the Irish Dominican Province after his Leaving Certificate.

His family ran and owned a busy grocery shop in Newbridge.

Tom has the distinction of joining the Dominican Order three times. He joined the Irish Province on two occasions and later joined the English Province, where he was ordained a priest.

He must be one of the very few people in religious life who had five novice masters. What at all must it have been like?

Before joining the Dominicans in the English Province he spent some time working as an accountant in Dublin.

He worked in Edinburgh and on the Orkneys before being appointed as chaplain to a convent of Dominican Sisters at Stone. 

Tom found the late Damian Byrne, who was Master of the Order, as someone who treated people in a refreshing manner. He would often quote him, saying: "Damian took people as they were,” and that was a characteristic of Damian’s, that he greatly appreciated.

Tom was formal in style. He was a quiet, sensitive person with a droll sense of humour.

At the time of his death he was a member of the English Dominican Province. 

Tom's funeral Mass is in the Dominican Church, Newbridge on Tuesday at 11am. Live stream at  https://dominicansnewbridge.ie/live-streaming/

Burial afterwards in St Conleth’s Cemetery, Newbridge. 

The late Fr Henry Flanagan is the sculptor  of the art work at the Dominican plot in Newbridge Cemetery

May he rest in peace.

Tom was one of the founding members of the Scottish Cross.

Below is a diary of a pilgrimage he made in Scotland with the Scottish Cross. The diary was published in the Church Times of May 1, 1998.

The Church Times is an independent Anglican weekly newspaper based in London and published in the United Kingdom on Fridays.

Saturday, April 4 is gathering-day for Scottish Cross, at the Catholic Chaplaincy for the University of Edinburgh, One by one, the 21 pilgrims walking from stage one (they are to be joined by another 13 along the route) arrive, and introduce themselves. They come from seven different countries, and from both the Anglican and Roman Catholic Churches. At an inaugural supper, kindly and expertly prepared by Jane Simmonds, the mellow, candle-lit table fellowship brings barriers down. We find ourselves being drawn into a recognisable, if embryonic, community,

Day 1, Drymen to Rowardennan

Palm Sunday dawns grey and wet. We gather in the Chaplaincy common room (where some have slept overnight): bags, boxes, boots and sleeping-bags everywhere. Before we leave for Drymen, we hold our first service together there: Mass and blessing of palms. The pain of Christian division is keenly felt. Together on the pilgrimage we will carry the cross, symbol of our common faith, and Christ's own prayer rings in our ears - "that they may be one". Yet a gulf exists which we are powerless to bridge. The pain is greatest, perhaps, for Patricia, an Anglican priest, who is doubly excluded from concelebrating the eucharist, as well.

Mid-morning finds us speeding north-west in our minibus, rain still pouring. However, once past the ancient capital of Stirling, the skies begin to clear, and rays of sunshine are seen on distant snowy mountains.Pilgrims and cross unload at Loch Lomond and we pause for the first Station before the walkers set off in silence, carrying the cross along the West Highland Way towards Rowardennan.

Little more than an hour later, we put down the cross for a picnic lunch. As we do so, we pray: "We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world", a prayer which will be repeated whenever we put down the cross at a Station - a brief pause to let one of us share a thought, a poem, a passage from the Bible - at rest or meal breaks, or at the end of a day. After each Station, we continue walking in silence for half an hour, to allow time to reflect and pray. Our programme also includes daily morning and evening prayer, as well as the Holy Week liturgies.

Day 2. Rowardennan to Beinglas

Morning prayer on the loch shore before setting off for Inversnaid, where we are to have lunch in the hotel. Tough hill walking, with the heavy cross, over rough ground: the harsh reality of the way to Calvary begins to become clearer. When we get to Inversnaid, at least three of the group have had enough walking for the day, and opt to go on by minibus. A delicious lunch (the dining-room opened specially for us), and afterwards we relax with coffee (or something stronger) in front of a blazing fire.

After another Station, the walkers go on to Beinglas at the loch's head, arriving in more rain, cold, tired and hungry, But the Stagger Inn at Ardlui is a delightful surprise: a superb bill of fare, all cooked from fresh local ingredients, and very reasonably priced. I shall never pass through Ardlui again without calling in there. From the sublime to the ridiculous: from the Stagger Inn to Beinglas campsite, and its wooden "wigwams". No words that I can use in this paper describe it.

Day 3. Beinglas to Tyndrum

Tuesday morning brings the promise of a fine day. We follow the West Highland Way as it climbs along the old military road to Crianlarich, where we pause for lunch and a quick visit to a local pub. Then on, northwards, towards Tymlrum, where bunkhouse and caravan accommodation has been reserved. This is probably the easiest day's walking. Our group is bonding well, helped by the Station reflections, the prayer sessions, the many helping hands given and received along the way, and the occasional wee dram.

Day 4. Tyndrum to Dalmally

Heavy rain in the morning, and mud everywhere. Loading the minibus is a thoroughly unpleasant task. The walk, a beautiful one, takes us to the Bridge of Orchy Hotel, where we have an excellent, though rather expensive, lunch. On last year's pilgrimage, our cross was stolen here by pranksters - happily there is no repeat of the episode this year.

Here, we leave the West Highland Way. All along it, we have passed and been passed by other walkers, many of whose faces are now quite familiar to us. We have chatted to them about our pilgrimage, and some have joined us for Station stops. But now - as happens on life's journey as well - we and they have parted company. The walk down Glen Orchy to Dalmally is a magical experience. Hugh, an Anglican priest from Dorset, who is on the last leg of a sabbatical, is particularly struck by its wild, wet beauty, and reads a moving poem at the Station.

We sleep at Craig Lodge House of Prayer, an old shooting-lodge, now a retreat house run by a community of Roman Catholic laypeople. Nothing could exceed the warmth and true Christian hospitality with which we are greeted and there are hot baths and comfortable beds - sheer luxury! Our cross rests overnight in the chapel, where after supper we celebrate separate Anglican and Roman Catholic eucharists. Again the pain of Christian division is intensely felt by us all.

Day 5. Dalmally to Taynuilt

Maundy Thursday is fine and clear, and we make for the shores of Loch Awe. A planned boat trip across the loch falls through, so instead we walk along back roads into Taynuilt - a stunningly beautiful route that we would have missed if the boat had been available. At Taynuilt, an early supper was promised for 6pm. Relying on such promises is often foolhardy, and that proved to be the case here. So most of us are dreadfully late for the Maundy Thursday service in the little RC parish church. We swamp the half-dozen parishioners there, of course, just as the influx of Irish road- and rail-builders for whom the church was built must have swamped the village in the 19th century. But it is a very moving service, where the venerable priest's washing of the weary walkers' feet - feet tired, blistered and in need of washing - is more than just a ritual. Early to bed on the floor of the village hall.

Day 6. Taynuilt to Oban

Good Friday. We rise at six, so as to reach Oban by lunchtime. After morning prayer and early breakfast, we collect our cross from the parish church and set out along the lovely Glen Lonan road. It is fine, but bitterly cold: a great day for walking. The road is virtually deserted, apart from long-haired Highland cattle, and we can meditate, on this most solemn of days. At Oban, heads turn to gaze as we carry our cross through the busy shopping streets and along the Esplanade to Sir Giles Gilbert Scott's imposing RC cathedral.

After lunch at the cathedral house, our pilgrims, with the cross at their head, are formally received at the cathedral door when the Good Friday service begins. For many of us, the service itself is the most moving and impressive part of the whole week. Seeing hundreds of people reverently kissing the cross that we have carried all across Scotland is an extraordinary experience.

Later, in the quiet of the evening, we return to the deserted cathedral for our own evening prayer. Sitting close together informally on the sanctuary steps, with evening sunlight pouring in, we are enveloped in something like a mystical experience. When the prayers end, we sit on in happy, silent meditation. No one wants to break the magic, the feeling of intense closeness to God and to each other. After supper, almost at midnight, some of the younger pilgrims creep back into the dark cathedral for impromptu night prayers and Taize chants. And so to bed.

Day 7. Oban to Iona

Holy Saturday dawns with blue skies, sunshine, and bitter winds. Most of the pilgrims take the cross on the first ferry from Oban to Craigmere to start the long walk across the Isle of Mull. The rest load up the minibus and follow on the next ferry across the choppy sea. The walk across Mull is the longest we have to face. No one could do its full 37 miles in the day so the minibus does a shuttle service to and fro across the centre of Mull. We all reach Fionnphort in time for the last ferry to Iona. Exhaustion is setting in, but a final spurt carries us up the hill, the last half-mile, to the little chapel in the Catholic House of Prayer at Cnoc a' Chalmain (the Hillock of the Dove), where we lay our cross at the foot of the altar. We have arrived. We have made it to the holy island.

After a short service of thanksgiving, we scatter to seek our resting-places, and then most make their way to the Benedictine Abbey Church for the Easter Vigil service with the Iona Community.

Day 8. Easter on Iona

Easter Day - sunshine, newborn lambs, birdsong - is one of rest and rejoicing. Sadly, some of us have to leave on the first ferry; the rest attend the Easter morning service at the Abbey. Later we explore the island by foot, before gathering for a last evening prayer together round the cross: in the chapel at Cnoc aChalmain. It is a time to reflect on our pilgrimage, and all we have gained from it, and from each other: the sharing of faith, the meeting of minds and hearts.

Deo gratias - thanks be to God.

Kylian Mbappé urges voters to oppose extremist parties

From the BBC website:

France's star footballer Kylian Mbappé urged voters to stand against "extremist" parties, as campaigning in the country's parliamentary elections kicked off.

President Emmanuel Macron called a snap election earlier this month, following a victory for his rival Marine Le Pen's right-wing National Rally in European elections.

With less than two weeks before the vote, his centrist alliance risks being squeezed by new coalitions on the left and right.

Yesterday, police estimated that a quarter of a million people protested across France against the prospect of the far-right coming to power.

Speaking in Germany ahead of France's opening Euro 2024 fixture on Sunday night, Mbappé urged young voters to reject "extremists", who he said were "at the gates of power”.

 

"We have an opportunity to choose the future of the country and we have to emphasise the importance of the task," he added. But the forward admitted he was concerned about the prospect of widespread apathy among younger voters.

 

Mbappé didn't name those he considered to be extremists, but was responding to a question about his teammate Marcus Thuram, who said he wanted to keep the far-right National Rally party from power during a recent interview. 

The party was quick to attack Mbappé for his comments. Nicolas Conquer, a National Rally candidate, told the BBC's Newshour programme that it "doesn't feel right for a sportsman from the national team to give directions on how people should vote".

Carlo Maria Viganò back in the news as Rome takes him on

Italian archbishop and former diplomat Viganò says he faces Vatican trial over Pope Francis criticism.

Just as the world is dangerously divided so it is within the Catholic Church, indeed the church may well have been ahead of the posse on this occasion.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/article/2024/jun/20/italian-archbishop-says-he-faces-vatican-trial-over-pope-francis-criticism?CMP=share_btn_url

Growing number of illegal/irregular vehicle number plates

There is a growing number of vehicles

on Irish roads with illegal number plates. What is the reason for this?

It is surprising to see Irish Rail having an illegal number plate on one of its vehicles. 

Daydreaming walking across Dublin every day to work

In the Health+family supplement in The Irish Times yesterday. It makes for a lovely read. Fionnula Ward walks across the city to her school in south Dublin. No headphones, just the sights and all the daydreaming

My pension, Gaza – thoughts flicker into existence on my walk, burn for a while and disappear

---

I walk to work most days, leaving the house at about 7am. It takes me roughly an hour and 15 minutes to negotiate my way from the north side of Dublin to the south.

My trek across the city bears little or no resemblance to hiking or hill walking. It’s not tramping as the New Zealanders like to say, or bushwalking which is what they do in Australia. This is city-walking. And city-walking, generally, if not always, has a purpose.

I have a destination. It never changes. And I have to get there by a certain time.

I do this walk freestyle. Like one of those climbers on a cliff face, swinging their way from rock to rock without a harness, I walk without earphones. Maybe not so much like freestyle climbers, now that I think of it. But still, I don’t listen to anything.

Which helps you notice things.

Nothing profound. Pretty basic. But I guess it’s good to notice. How suddenly it’s not so dark when you’re leaving the house. How week on week the brightness creeps in earlier and earlier.

I’d love to be able to say that this makes me very present in the moment, but I’m afraid that’s not the case. The usual takes hold. Thoughts flicker into existence, burn for a while and disappear into the nothingness.

I fantasise about retiring with a full pension. I worry about that damp mark on the ceiling of the extension. I fret over climate change. I figure out my food shopping and whether I should try out that recipe a friend sent. It seems easy enough and sounds delicious and then images of the horrors in Gaza will come to mind or of a refugee camp in Yemen that I saw on the news and I’ll have the briefest of revelations of how lucky I am, and then it’s back to my pension.

Fragments of memory

And, of course, fragments of memory will appear and disappear.

A sight, a smell, a sound and suddenly people long deceased will be there, right beside me, and in an instant gone again.

Meanwhile, I’m on O’Connell Street or crossing the Liffey and then I’m among the delivery vans outside the shops on Grafton Street. It’s not quite as idyllic as it might sound. There are no whistling, apron-clad men in caps with trays of freshly baked goods heading through open doors. Maybe there never were. It’s just people doing their job, occasionally pausing, devices in hand to check inventory.

The bus is quicker. The 9 or 16 will get me there in under an hour and I’m no martyr to the cause. I’ll head to the bus stop if the weather is bad or if I have to be in early for any reason.

But daydreaming can’t be done on a bus. Not for me, anyway. The phone takes hold. And, anyway, high-quality daydreaming needs repetitive motion to get the brain churning up all those random bits and pieces lodged within.

I work in a school and sometimes catch glimpses of children staring out a window or sitting on the steps in the yard looking at nothing in particular. But then children are good at daydreaming and they’re good at watching – at taking things in. Much better than their grown-up counterparts. They don’t need to be moving from A to B or doing something physical.

Schools are frenetic places and they know at some level that they need a chill-out every now and then.

Not so long ago, I spotted one under a picnic table we have beside the side wall.

He had climbed into the space between the benches and was squatting there on his own, his arms resting on one of the wooden supports, staring out at the comings and goings.

All okay? I inquired.

Fine, he grinned and went back to his observations.

Friends are surprised that I do this. I’m not a driver, but I can understand the appeal of a warm, comfortable car. And time can be a factor, of course, as well as responsibilities for others. I’m single and can walk out the door with no repercussions for anyone.

And Dublin is not a particularly pedestrian-friendly city. It’s all about the car and how efficiently it can make its way through the urban landscape – where it can turn, where it can park and all of that.

But it’s is not the worst place to walk either.

And when I arrive to school, the blood is up and I’m good to go.

Then hours later, I’ll slip my Leap card into my back pocket for the trip home. The bus beckons this time around.

Once a day is enough.

It’s so easy to miss what’s right in front of our noses

This week’s Mediahuis Irish regional newspapers’ column.

Michael Commane

William Anders died on June 7 while piloting a small plane, which crashed near Washington state.

He was one of the first three astronauts to orbit the moon in 1968 along with Jim Lovell and Frank Borman. 

On one of the mission’s lunar orbits he took the now famous picture of the earth rising over the lunar surface, which was later described as the most influential environmental photograph ever taken.

Anders, while still orbiting the moon, said: ‘Here we come all the way to see the moon to discover the earth’.

It is a brilliant line. All the engineering, all the development and cost to learn about the moon and what happens, they see the earth and its wonder.

In many ways, it’s that old cliche of missing the wood for the trees.

Last week while stopped on my bicycle at traffic lights on Dublin’s O’Connell Street there was a young man cleaning the pavement. I was impressed with the detail he was giving to picking up rubbish. He certainly caught my attention. It was an unseasonably cold morning, I should have been wearing a coat, and I noticed he wisely had a scarf wrapped around his neck. Maybe that’s  how our conversation began. I’m curious by nature, which meant I was firing questions at him and he was answering them as fast as he could. 

He was explaining how Dublin City Council has people out cleaning the pavements and emptying bins all day long.

The traffic lights changed many times during our conversation. I asked him if he and his team were making a few euro in collecting cans and plastic bottles in the Return scheme. That led on to an interesting chat. He told me that a group of this colleagues had pooled together and with their earnings managed to buy three air fryers. 

He explained to me the early shift that he was on that day was not very profitable. The cans and plastic bottles would be appearing later in the day. At this stage we were both laughing. 

But he did point out that management had no problem with this practice once it did not interfere in their day’s work. I think he also said that there were plans afoot to set up a system whereby they could donate to some charity or other. 

I carried on that day about my business, doing the things I had to do. I have no doubt that my traffic light conversation enriched my day and I got the distinct impression he too enjoyed our chat. It might even have been the highlight of my day.

It’s so easy to miss what’s right in front of our noses, chasing after rainbows and of course realising it was a waste of a journey. I often wonder in our rush to be somewhere else, do something different, be different, are we missing what it means to be authentic and real. And there is also the added advantage of what we can learn from other people. In his Booker wining novel ‘Prophet Song’Paul Lynch writes about happiness hiding in the humdrum. Spot on.