A great man lies on his death bed

An Irish Dominican I know for 42 years lies on his death bed.

He was born on Christmas Eve 1939. It makes him 69. He is not old. He was born into a world of war. Hitler was prancing around Europe and would keep doing so until he met his match at Stalingrad and Kursk.

It means Ross grew up in a world of turmoil, which caused indescribable pain for millions of people. It meant rations and privation in Ireland.

Ross is a slight man. But he always had an amazing energy, physical and intellectual.

When I was a novice, Ross was finishing his studies at UCC. Studying with him at the time were three other Dominicans, two of them now dead. The other man left the Dominicans and priesthood. One man committed suicide. Another man died of natural causes. Only for Ross the latter would never have managed his exams. Ross pulled him by his boot strings through his final exams and essay deadlines.

After University Ross went to South American where he spent many years. I never saw his work first-hand but I am told he built schools and churches with his own hands. He was a dynamic 'terrier'.

Authority and the establishment had not got the tools or insight to 'handle' him. All they could ever do was to dismiss him as maybe even 'mad'.

He was no diplomat or 'fixer' but a man who spoke his mind no matter what the consequences. He saw through the nonsense of all the clerical rot that exists in abundance in Ireland.

He was abrasive, at times could be impossible, but he was always great. He was truthful. And he was highly intelligent. He was never afraid to stand up to the great and the mighty. He was afraid of no-one. All he was ever afraid of was dishonesty and deceit. Humbug was anathema to him. Inefficiency and waste too.

He is now a frail and weak man. But his mind still razor sharp.

I asked him on Friday if he believed in God. He replied, 'stronger than ever'. When I asked him about the existence of heaven, he made no reply.

The Dominican Order will be a far poorer place without Ross. More than ever, the order needs sentry boxes manned by people such as Ross.

Ross was born before Stalingrad and Kursk. But his life in some ways is a mirror image of the doggedness and ferocity of those valiant fighters. It stands in stark relief to the nonsensical pageantry and liturgical lap dancing that takes place in today's Irish church.