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OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

Eamonn Monson SAC

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AN UNSTIRRED STILLNESS (Surrender)

- September 14, 2026

There's an unstirred stillness about fog. Silence of a Sunday morning, the sun attempting to break through, promising something, delivering nothing. The beautifully haunting cello of Spiegel im Spiegel is the only sound to enter into the day, reminding me of my friend Fr Míceal. We used to listen to it together in the car. It's in the car now that it spontaneously pops up on my playlist. A high tide blubbers in the chambers of my soul, like the swell of the sea in the crevices of rocks at Ballyloughán. An echo of emptiness in the falling night. A young man on a bench is doing something I've only ever seen in Argentina. He's pouring hot water from a thermos into a gourd cup with a steel straw. I nod at him and say, "Mate" - pronounced mathé, a kind of tea made with bitter herbs. His face breaks into a big smile, delighted at the recognition. A man alone and far from home. We are briefly connected in that moment. Briefly, and perhaps forever. Aloneness hovers a...

THE SOUNDING SILENCE, SILENT MUSIC

- May 06, 2026

Silence of Pallotti House Chapel "O sounding Song whose depth is sounding me...come to me disguised as everything" (Malcolm Guite) A state of acute unworthiness! This is how I felt as I entered the chapel for morning prayer. Alone. Alone with the One, such is the definition of what a monk is. A man who is alone with the One. I am a monk then in that sense. It has been a lifelong fantasy of mine, to be a Cistercian monk in a monastery with all the Trappist trappings. I even asked Chatgpt to paint me a picture of me as a monk and that is what you have above. A fantasy. Not meant to be in the physical sense but it is there spiritually within me and I am living it now in that way. Thank God. In the chapel on the morning in question, there came to me again that silence, that incredible, absolute silence that is physical as well as everything; physical in that it inhabits the place, enfolding and filling me, so that I can only think that it is the Divine Silence, the Silence of Me...

This is a Lonely Place (In Memory of Johnny Carty)

- August 04, 2026

"... a lonely place... this is a lonely place" (Matthew 14) I went to visit my cousin Johnny in hospital late last year. His regret was that he had forgotten to bring his Rosary beads with him. They were as familiar to his hands as the mobile phone is to mine. I gave him my beads and we prayed the Rosary together. Anyone who ever visited his house would understand that at least a decade of the Rosary would be said before they left. It was as natural to him as a cup of tea. Unashamed. Unpretentious. The Rosary and the Mass were pillars of his life. Nothing could separate him from them. As in the words of St. Paul in Romans 8: " Nothing can come between us and the love of Christ, even if we are troubled or worried, or being persecuted, or lacking food or clothes, or being threatened or even attacked. These are the trials through which we triumph, by the power of him who loved us. For I am certain of this: neither death nor life, no angel, no prince, nothing that exists...

Love Was His Meaning

- May 09, 2024

‘Love was his meaning’: a conversation about Julian of Norwich between Dr Claire Gilbert and Fr Eamonn Monson. Click on the link below to listen to the conversation https://drive.google.com/file/d/16euftBoLdrM3X1YvEAhK3RznhdAI1LFj/view?usp=drivesdk Claire Gilbert wrote her doctoral thesis on Julian in relation to the ecological crisis, but when she was diagnosed with myeloma, a cancer of the blood, Julian stopped being the subject of her academic study and became her spiritual companion and guide through two and a half years of gruelling treatment. Claire wrote about this in letters to friends, published as Miles to Go Before I Sleep . At the end of the treatment she heard a call to tell Julian’s story and wrote I, Julian , a fictional autobiography which seeks to do justice to this extraordinary woman’s life. Dr Claire Gilbert is an author. She is the founding director of the Westminster Abbey Institute, and has worked for the Archbishops’ Council of the C...

MOTHERHOOD (for Sadie)

- June 06, 2017

Motherhood embraced me The day I went away We sobbed together Held tight in time And loss Her womb Leaning in to me As God might In that place Where life was borne Delivered wrenched away Again again again Rachael weeping For her children Because they are no more What do you call A mother whose child Had died? A short life in the womb Four hours after birth Two and four and ten years old? I have never seen Such sorrow or Such dignity Womanhood so steadfast and frail The arms that ache to hold The missing Child Encompassing me We drench each other's shoulder Tears of grief Mingled with relief For life that swells The womb once more Pressing against my body Throbbing And born A child is born Amen Again Amen!

The Call of St. Matthew (Caravaggio)

- October 05, 2019

When Jesus enters the room My hands are still on the money Fingers fiddling My mind distracted by it My soul oppressed by its demands My heart tangled in its deception Then glancing sideward I see the Hand outstretched Finger pointing like a new creation’s Dawning light And when He speaks It is clear that I cannot Serve both God and money It is He that I must follow However harrowed be my life I grow younger as I near Him A beauty ever ancient Emerges ever new Sitting with Him at table We sinners are drawn in To an intimacy Most Divine Mercy

Muddied Boots

- August 15, 2026

Oh my Lord I am here again In the muddied boots Of my soul Having stumbled and fallen Through mire and dark I am embarrassed And yet In your great lenience You bring me To Your Sanctuary Stable of shepherds Clothing me once more In the robes of Your own White brightness Without removing These boots

Imprisoned Fire

- September 03, 2026

Imprisoned fire Of a kiln Burns within My bones Rages within My heart I just don't know What to do To hope Or not to hope To trust Or not to trust To speak Or not to speak To reach out Or not to reach out To be restrained Or To burst forth A bellowing flame And wail and wail Like an animal in travail Writhing in the horror That has befallen From the blueness Of a Summer's Fading day Do I bellow Or do I remain Silent?

BUT NOW I SEE

- August 31, 2026

Yesterday I helped with the Pallottine Mission Appeals in Limerick Cathedral and St. Michael's church. I'm useless at selling anything and can't do the usual pitch that will motivate people to empty their pockets, so I settle for the Word of God as it was given to us in the readings. For the first Mass I concelebrated with the young Father Peter from Nigeria, a member of the Sons of Mary Mother of Mercy, four of whom serve in the diocese of Limerick. A tall, fit and charming man who was most hospitable. It was an interesting expression of how the Mission of the Church has evolved. An African missionary to Ireland who leads the penitential rite in Irish and a former Missionary to Tanzania. "Think of God's Mercy...and worship Him." So wrote St. Paul. The Mission of the Church, our Mission in East Africa, is nothing other than one great act of God's Mercy and one great act of worship. God's Mercy in Hosea is expressed in terms of a Mother leaning over her...

FESTIVAL OF THE UNEXCEPTIONAL: Celebrating the Ordinary

- November 06, 2025

We were talking about cars. The flash sporty ones and car shows that he attended. He has a lot of knowledge. I don’t. But I’ve loved all cars since I was a boy. There weren’t that many of them in Mervue in the 1960’s. Enough, though, for me to fill a notebook with their registration numbers, make and model. Ordinary cars of ordinary people. Of the sixteen homes in Ceannt Avenue, there were four or five cars and I would tell friends that my Dad was getting one next year. A pale blue Anglia, like the one uncle Josie had. It never happened! In our teen years Mam would lament the fact that we were still “the walking Monsons”. Back to the conversation with my friend! He told me about the Festival of the Unexceptional that he attended, a car show at which they celebrate the ordinary cars of ordinary people who tell of the significance of their particular vehicle in their lives. I looked it up online. Fabulous! It strikes me that Christianity is a Festival of Unexceptional, ordinary people w...

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MY OTHER BLOGS

Seek HIS Face
CAMINO - One Million Steps To Freedom
I AM Huruma - Mostly Shankill
HERE I AM (Hineni)

This Month

Farewell Homily for Fr Eamonn Monson (Readings: Ezekiel 47 : 1-2, 8-9, 12 | 1 Cor 3 : 9-11, 16-17 | John 2 : 13-22) It’s not easy to say goodbye to someone like Fr Eamonn Monson — not just because of the years he’s spent with us, but because of how he’s spent them: fully, generously, and at times delightfully unpredictably… especially if you happen to be a pigeon. Yes, it’s fair to say that Fr Eamonn has always had a generous heart — and apparently a generous spare room too. One pigeon took up residence in the presbytery, another decided the church itself would do nicely and most recently a pair started hanging out in the porch Whether they came seeking spiritual guidance or just good company, who’s to say? But they clearly recognised a kind soul when they saw one. The River of Life – Ezekiel 47 In the first reading, the prophet Ezekiel sees a trickle of water flowing from the Temple — a stream that grows deeper and wider until it becomes a river brin...

I LIVE TO SERVE - In Loving Memory of Father Emmanuel Msuri

- October 27, 2025

We stand in the temple of our reality, in the presence of God, like the two men in the Gospel. What brings us close to God has been given us. The One who is close to the broken-hearted has humbled us with sorrow so that we might come near to Him. There are two things that bring us into intimate union with Him – the humbled contrite heart of the sinner who cries out for Mercy and the humbled heart that is broken by sorrow. Heart-broken. One prays, “O God be merciful to me a sinner” and the other simply says “O God…” We are shocked and heart-broken by the unexpected death, at the age of forty-seven, of Father Emmanuel Msuri whose arrival here in Hastings we have been waiting for with great anticipation. This was to be another kind of Advent; the meaning of his name not lost on us. Emmanuel – God is with us. He was not known personally to any of the parishioners, with the exception of Alexandra who, as leader of the welcoming group had been in contact with him by email. But, t...

The Call of St. Matthew (Caravaggio)

- October 05, 2019

FESTIVAL OF THE UNEXCEPTIONAL: Celebrating the Ordinary

- November 06, 2025

St. Teresa of Avila: Let Nothing Disturb you

- October 15, 2020

St. Teresa in Ecstasy “My soul at once becomes recollected and I enter the state of quiet. Everything is stilled and the soul is left in a state of great quiet and deep satisfaction.” (St. Teresa of Avila) St. Teresa of Avila has been one of the most significant guides of my spiritual life since I was 17 years old. I began reading her very early in my life as a Pallottine and there are two moments – a dream and a time in prayer - that have connected me to her. In the dream I walked into an old unfamiliar church where I met my father who was already dead at the time. He pointed me to a side altar at the top left-hand side. When I went there I saw St. Teresa’s tomb in front of the altar. It was like the Italian ones with the shape of the body carved in marble; she was sleeping covered with a blanket. Then she stirred and woke up, telling me to stand between her and the altar. “Stay here” she said “and I will take care of you.” The second happened during a charismatic retreat when I ...

TIME OF MY DEPARTURE

- June 30, 2025

A garden in the city. The only cool place on this rather hot morning. Beautiful. Nothing to do but watch the antics of two cats. The mother, who has been named Beauty and her unnamed kitten, whom I have decided to call Binti. A wild, frightened thing and very funny to watch. I think if I remained long enough in the garden and sat still enough she would become accustomed to my presence, not take off in fright every time I stand up. It's the morning after a very emotional weekend. Part of me feels like a traitor. It's the kind of road I naturally go down. But I really must start taking into myself the sheer depth and strength of the love that the people of Hastings parish have for me. That there is love between us has been clear all along. I know this in my head. But it's another thing to absorb it into the fibres of my being, to risk being possessed by it, overwhelmed by it, consumed. Consumed. I have been consumed by my work in Hastings. Only now do I realise it. People h...

THE SUPREME ADVANTAGE - In Loving Memory of Fr. John Fitzpatrick SAC

- August 26, 2025

Three former Provincials - Derry Murphy , John and me Thurles Cathedral bell rings out the midday Angelus . I pray it out loud for John. We are alone and this is one of the prayers I associate with him. "May Thy Divine assistance remain always with us." Then there is only the sound of him breathing through his final sleep on earth, a sleep that began more than two days ago. We thought then that he would go quickly enough. He thought it himself. His last words were something like, "it's time for me to go to the Lord." But the Lord has His own time in the mystery of things. And I am in no rush, being home on holidays with all the time in the world. Like his sister Rita said yesterday, isn't it good to have all the time we can have with him, even if we want him to be free of this final struggle. But there's actually little sign of struggle, just a slow, steady and heavy breathing. There were moments of obvious pain yesterday but even then he doesn't u...

Love Was His Meaning

- May 09, 2024

900 Miles to Salta: A Pilgrim Testimony

- July 13, 2026

There is a small stone church on top of a hill about 10 km from the beautiful city of Salta in Argentina. It is the shrine of the Immaculate Mother of the Divine Eucharistic Heart of Jesus. I call her Our Lady of Salta. About twenty years ago, while on visitation as Provincial to the community in Mercedes, a man from the parish told me about the apparitions of Our Lady that were taking place in Salta and insisted that I should go. He was very sincere, but I didn’t want to get caught up in the hype of something that might not be true. I wanted no false visions, no false hope, no false religious experience. A second person in Mercedes — Marta, a friend of Derry — also spoke to me about it and was equally insistent. I had experienced her as a forthright, honest person. At that time, two challenging situations in Argentina were causing me great distress — encounters that had previously gone very badly wrong, harsh words spoken, hurt inflicted. The thought of facing them again was stressing...

THE SOUNDING SILENCE, SILENT MUSIC

- May 06, 2026