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.

Meath bishop apologises for hurt caused by parish curate

The Catholic bishop of Meath, Thomas Deenihan has apologised for the ‘hurt’ caused by a priest in his diocese, who posted a number of memes supporting far right-wing parties and conspiracy theories on his Facebook page.

Fr Fergal Cummins, who is a curate in Tullamore-Durrow in the diocese of Meath, has regularly posted on Facebook. According to yesterday’s Sunday Independent, topics included Covid-19 vaccines; that there is a UN Agenda 2030, whose goals include creating a one world government, the end of the family unit, the end of all private property, world depopulation and fertility control, the end of private farms and the end of animal ownership.

Elsewhere Fr Cummins posted a picture of Taoiseach Simon Harris, with the headline ‘Weak Men Allow Evil to Happen’ and ‘get them out’.

The posts have now been removed from Facebook.

According to Google Fr Cummins is closely associated with many agencies, including Radio Maria.

Did Fr Cummins in the past criticise comments made by Fr Brendan Hoban?

On the Youth 2000 newsletter he wrote a Gospel reflection for Sunday, November 27, 2022, which includes the following extract:

"A brief reminder that during Advent, each day, I strongly encourage you all: ~

1. In the morning (before work): Spend 10-15min in silent prayer & read four chapters of your Bible.
2. In the afternoon: go for a walk and pray both the rosary and the chaplet of divine mercy.
3. In the evening: Read a holy book for 30min (on the saints or the virtues) & examine your conscience."

More victims, more episcopal apologies but little change

The US Conference of Catholic Bishops apologised on Friday for the church’s role in traumatising Native American children at boarding schools until the mid-1900s.

The bishops’ apology on Friday did not refer specifically to sexual abuse, even though the Washington Post found at least 122 priests, sisters and brothers at 22 Catholic-run boarding schools who were later accused of sexually abusing Native American children under their care. 

The bishops said, “These multigenerational traumas continue to have an impact today, one that is perpetuated by racism and neglect of all kinds. Through our listening sessions, we heard that many Indigenous people feel unaccepted by and unwelcomed in society and even the Church.”

That all reads fine, and the church has had no alternative but to clean up its act. But the oxygen that allowed all this to happen is still alive in the Catholic Church.

Fr Eugene Duffy, a priest of the diocese of Achonry, in an article in the Furrow refers to how the merging of the dioceses of Achonry and Killala was a ‘hierarchical event’. He believes a far more synodal approach needs to be taken.

Fr Duffy says that the way the two diocese were merged shows how the church leadership talks the talk of synodality but doesn’t walk the walk.

And that’s how the hierarchical church continues to behave in so many areas of its life.

It would be interesting to do an audit of how much the Catholic Church in Ireland and, indeed, across the world pays in legal fees and compensation to victims. In the case of Ireland, that figure surely is available, as the Catholic Church is registered as a charity.

It’s relatively easy to apologise for historical events, and apologies are needed, but they sound hollow unless the behaviour of the church today complements those apologies.

A living language changing or simply bad grammar?

Commenting yesterday on RTÉ Radio on the results of last Friday’s elections a university professor said: “They could have ran .....” and later in the programme said: “They should have went early....”

Later on the same day an RTÉ reporter said: “.... they have went"

Is it simply a/ a sign that a living language is constantly changing, b/ the past participle is dying, or c/ the professor and the reporter’s English is not up to standard.

Almost 120 million people with nowhere to rest their head

Close to 120 million people worldwide were forcibly displaced in 2023, the 12th year in a row that figure has risen, according to the latest figures from the United Nations' refugees agency.

It means one in 69 people on the planet have been forced from their homes, either displaced to other parts of their own country, or across an international border. Just a decade ago, that comparable ratio was Just one in 125, meaning the proportion of the global population has almost doubled.

There are multiple factors driving these annual increases, Kelly Clements, the deputy high commissioner for the UN refugee agency, UNHCR.

"We've got wars and conflicts that wage on without a solution in Afghanistan, Syria, now Ukraine, Venezuela, Myanmar — those are the protracted situations. And then we have new crises and new wars," says Clements.

The conflict in Gaza, which exploded into the world's consciousness with the October 7 Hamas-led attack in Israel and the Israeli military campaign in Gaza, has displaced almost two million Palestinians according,  to the UN agency that aids Palestinians, UNRWA. 

War has been waging in Sudan for more than a year with more than 10 million people forced from their homes, according to the UN's International Organization for Migration.

With close to 120 million people with no one to rest their head, how many people have come to our shores looking for protection? 

The UK is an underlier when it comes to accepting refugees and asylum seekers, whereas Germany has taken more than its fair share.

Directly from the mouth of Oliver Callan

Yesterday morning Oliver Callan on his RTE Radio programme said: “The Vatican is an enclave of total corruption and the largest homophobic organisation in the world."

Did Russian-based hackers cause IR booking collapse?

The Irish Times reported on Monday that Russian-based hackers hit Irish website before Friday’s voting. Among the sites that were hit was Irish Rail's

On the Thursday before the vote Irish Rail’s booking system collapsed and was down for close to 24 hours. Was this the result of the hacking? Why did Irish Rail not inform passengers of the outage? 

Our words should express what we think

This week’s Medaihuis Irish regional newspapers’ column.

Michael Commane

Sitting across the aisle from me earlier this week on a train were a couple, probably in their 30s. The conversation was dotted every few minutes with ‘shut the f… up’. And it was the woman who was saying it. He seemed a nervous type and found it difficult to stay still for more than 10 minutes.

 

For two hours 15 minutes, at least from what I could glean, they really spoke about nothing that was in any way engaging. Am I being patronising saying that? I don’t think so.

The previous day I called on a man who is partially invalided. We usually hurl pleasant insults at each other, gossip about him and her and solve all the problems of the village, even the world.

But on this occasion I decided to go serious and told him straight out how I admire his attitude to his new situation. He now depends on other people to do many jobs for him and he can no longer walk independently to the local shop to buy what he wants. 

There was a moment of silence before he looked at me and admitted that he misses his independence, being able to go to the shop, fill his bag with his purchase, throw it over his shoulder and walk back home. 

It was a privileged moment for me because I knew he was talking deadly seriously. All the usual banter between us had been put aside just for a short few minutes as we both knew we were talking real and true words to each other. 

I have no idea how I would manage if a similar fate were thrown my way. I filled a bucket of coal for him and went on my way. Indeed, I was surprised I asked him if I should do that and was also surprised that he assented.

Oscar Wilde says: ‘Ultimately the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or in friendship, is conversation’.

Wilde is saying something of great importance but surely there are many different types of conversation.

We can converse about everything under the sun, from football to war but how often and with whom do we in our conversation express what we are really thinking? 

How much of our conversations are shadow boxing. We often use the expression, ‘he is a cute hoor’ to describe someone whom we know is talking out of both sides of their mouth at the same time, someone who can easily fool us with their words, saying one thing and meaning another.

Indeed, it’s often used in a complimentary sense about someone. If you think about it, isn’t that extremely odd. Surely our words should be used to annunciate what we mean. Anything else is a lie and deceit.

I’m reminded of all the going away celebrations I have attended and the words that are used to describe the person. Often it’s a mix of lies, truths and make-belief. Maybe it’s the same with obituaries, but what point is there ever in speaking badly about the dead. Then again, why not if it be the truth.

I’ve often been told to zip it, that I can speak my mind too easily, but might the world not be a better place if we spoke our minds in truth, kindness and respect?

More wise words from Wilde: ‘Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.’ You could add many topics.