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OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

Eamonn Monson SAC

Janette@50

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- December 20, 2017

Portraits of a Lady and an Angel

Happy 50th Birthday Janette

Click HERE or on the photo above to view slideshow

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Love Was His Meaning

‘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...

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- October 28, 2024

My name Is not a word To be pronounced More a sound Emanating From God Most High Like the silence Of interstellar space The calm deep of ocean Washing the shore The quiet falling Of an Autumn leaf And then again The roaring of wind Waves crashing on rocks Groaning of the elements A pristine primordial cry And the laughter of delighted children My name is a mystery And I have heard God call it In the unfathomable Sacrament of the Altar And in those hidden places Where only He has ventured

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MAY I SAY LOVE: Remembering Father Pat Dwyer

- December 22, 2022

“You must be detached” he would say to us his students back in the 1970’s, a lesson that I have tried to learn with some success and then none. We learn, forget, and relearn. Detachment was taught to me again when I visited Pat in August and it is taught again today with the announcement that his funeral will take place on Christmas Eve and I cannot attend. It’s a funeral that I should be at, but this is the price one has to pay for not living in Ireland. What does it matter in the end and who am I anyway that I should be there? But I feel the pain of grief, the pain of disconnection, the pain of being alone with this. At least yesterday evening my sister Evelyn was here to sit with me in the silencing news of his death. He was a father to me, father of my spiritual life. This is not just detachment; it is the Cross – another lesson that Pat sought to teach us. “You must remember the Cross” he announced with right index finger raised on the day of our ordination when everyone els...

ALONG THE BEAUTIFUL WAY (Climb or be Carried Advent 2024)

- December 04, 2024

In the past I understood AI in relation to farming and the person making it happen was sometimes referred to as “the bull”, but now AI has another meaning – artificial intelligence – and I have used it to alter photos, removing bits that I don’t like. Sometimes with serious intent and other times just doing it for fun. As I approach another milestone in my life I am naturally looking back over the years I have lived out in this world and part of me would like to alter some of what has taken place. If I could, I would delete aspects of my personal history – the embarrassing things, things of which I am ashamed. And I would also like to delete evidence of my vanity, much of which is public in both photos and writing – and I could, even might delete some of these, especially the writings. Such an amount of vanity and self in them! Then, last Monday, I thought – so what! So what if I am vain! It would be better not to be, but deleting the evidence of my vanity would be dishonest becaus...

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- October 28, 2024

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Follies Forgotten

- October 21, 2024

From the pocket of my jeans I take the bunch of keys Fumbling bundle of responsibilities That are carried with me everywhere The discomfort of them Prodding my flesh The clumsy weight of them Too many of them And I thrust them To the bottom of my backpack And throw it to the bottom Of the wardrobe Free now for the quiet Of this strange bleak place Drab and most dreary of days But free nonetheless For brotherhood And solitude with the One And only necessary Good For whom Through whom From whom All else flows And all my follies forgotten

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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

ALONG THE BEAUTIFUL WAY (Climb or be Carried Advent 2024)

- December 04, 2024

THINKING ABOUT SALVATION (In Loving Memory of Simon)

- November 20, 2024

My Name

- October 28, 2024

MAY I SAY LOVE: Remembering Father Pat Dwyer

- December 22, 2022

Preferring The Deception

- October 27, 2024

YOU WILL SEE YOUR TEACHER

- September 25, 2024

Holiness of the Imperfect

- October 06, 2024

This Year

Love Was His Meaning

‘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...

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- July 10, 2024

"I shall make my weaknesses my special boast” (2 Corinthians 12:9) There's a struggle going on in me, the tiredness that comes with the end of the year, the tiredness I see in teachers and pupils as they come to the conclusion of their academic year. A tiredness and an excited anticipation of endings and freedom. I'm a bit unsteady in myself when I enter the church for the first Sunday morning Mass. I have the pleasure of my sister's company this weekend, but in normal times the first word I speak in the day is spoken when I come for Mass which is preceded by three hours of silence. Silent breakfast, silent prayer, silent preparation. I love that silence and I love the first word that is spoken in the day. The connection with the people of the parish. This particular Sunday morning a young Mum places her new-born baby in my arms. The effect on me is instant. Holding this child close to my chest, all unsteadiness is steadied, all turbulence calmed by a peace that ta...

My Name

- October 28, 2024

My name Is not a word To be pronounced More a sound Emanating From God Most High Like the silence Of interstellar space The calm deep of ocean Washing the shore The quiet falling Of an Autumn leaf And then again The roaring of wind Waves crashing on rocks Groaning of the elements A pristine primordial cry And the laughter of delighted children My name is a mystery And I have heard God call it In the unfathomable Sacrament of the Altar And in those hidden places Where only He has ventured

COME ALONE TO THE ALONE (A Silence to be Felt)

- September 09, 2024

Samuel, "the man who listens to God" - that's the meaning of his name. Samuel who pitched tent outside our church in the winter of a few years ago. Samuel, who returns from time to time and gives thanks that we gave him a welcome. And I give thanks that he is now settled in his own home and has a job. The man who listens to God, the one by whom God is heard, turned up appropriately enough with his girl friend yesterday before the Sunday vigil Mass. Appropriate because she is deaf and unable to speak clearly. Appropriate because the Gospel of this weekend has Jesus addressing the deafness of a man and healing him. Samuel's friend is not here to be healed. She isn't healed of her deafness but what is beautiful is to see the communication that takes place between the two of them; communication on all sorts of levels; a loving communication. He is heard by her, and she is understood by him. "Be opened!" This is how Jesus addresses the deafness of the man. Be...

Holiness of the Imperfect

- October 06, 2024

At a meeting on the new Parish that will be established in November, I was struck by the fact that most of the questions and discussions focused on finance and structure, matters for which there are no adequate answers yet. Not yet. My attention went in the direction of inspiration, specifically on what Bishop Richard refers to as “communities of saints.” This is what we are called to become, though becoming saints is probably the farthest thing from most people’s minds, engrossed as we are in the throes of daily living. From childhood I have been drawn to the idea of holiness, the call of God in the Bible when He says, “be holy, for I the Lord am holy.” (Leviticus 21:8 and 1 Peter 1:16) Becoming holy and becoming saints are the same thing. For centuries in the Church, it was thought that, in order to become holy, one had to become a priest, a nun, a brother, a monk or a hermit. These were the vocations of saints yet when you look at the Bible, the very first vocation mentioned is to m...

Scallop Shell and Camper Van (CORPUS CHRISTI 2024)

- June 02, 2024

From my earliest years as a young child, there has been a close connection between the Divine and the ordinary things of life. I understood and accepted that God was everywhere, so I prayed to him anywhere, told him my simplest desires. Many of these have been answered, some taking years – like the yacht that I’ve written about before - and others almost instantly. An instant answer happened the other day as I was out on my walk. Something in me said it would be good to have a real scallop shell for Baptisms and I wondered if I should use my Camino shell which is at home in Mervue, but I felt that it has its place and memory. And as I approached the Goat Ledge outdoor café, I noticed William decorating one of the walls with hundreds of scallop shells. Stopping to chat with him, I mentioned my desire for one. He promptly produced a box full of them and offered me two to take away. Another experience has to do with the blue and white Volkswagen toy Minibus I had when I was about three or...

Back to Her First Love

- April 29, 2024

April 29, 2024. Forty-five years ago today I made my Final Profession as a Pallottine on the Feast day of St. Catherine of Siena who expresses well what goes on in me when she speaks these words to God, “ You are a mystery as deep as the sea; the more I search, the more I find, and the more I find the more I search for you. But I can never be satisfied; what I receive will ever leave me desiring more. When you fill my soul I have an even greater hunger, and I grow more famished for your light. I desire above all to see you, the true light, as you really are. ” But I can never be satisfied; what I receive will ever leave me desiring more. Desire! For a long time, I have thought that every desire of my humanity is at its heart a desire for God but maybe that’s not the case. Maybe I glamourize my desires when, in fact, they are actually mundane, and even base, having nothing to do with God at all. Vocation Sunday leaves me questioning the sincerity of my own vocation. Not the vocation...

I KNOW THAT, LOVE: In Honour of Mary Moore

- January 19, 2024

Dawn broke beautifully over a white-frosted Mervue, the sun shivering through naked trees. Fog rising further out in the fields, diffusing a soft light. Evelyn drove me to Shannon for my return trip to Hastings. After two weeks away I know it’s time to get back and, however much I fantasize about retirement, I know it wouldn’t suit me at all. Not yet! Mary Moore’s funeral kept me home a few days longer – five days! It was an honour to be the priest celebrating her requiem. Her death has startled us her contemporaries. And it brought us together. It made us think. Especially since she is the second of our generation in Mervue to die within the space a of week. It has, of course, also awakened the feeling of loss in relation to our Maura. Her death almost twenty-five years ago. Mary was seventy-one years old, as Maura would be if she were here now. They were school mates; friends and I was part of that friendship especially in our teens when I spent many happy times in Coynes...

Out Of Touch

- July 15, 2024

Down to the edge Of the island We will go Once more Beyond the reach Of electric power Out of touch With everything Where Elements Alone remain Salt sea water Washing my face My sinners soul Transformed by grace Mother of Mercy Is present here Speaking of surrender To the Spirit Here is the wind The waves The crashing And the upward surge Of everything

Death With Life Contended (Easter 2024)

- April 01, 2024

Witness. The word appears a few times in the first reading for Easter Sunday. Here in Hastings, we had the annual ecumenical Procession of Witness – the Way of the Cross – which made its way from St. Clement’s church, up High Street, into our own St. Mary Star of the Sea and then on to All Saints. To be a witness is not simply something we see with our eyes, not only something we give testimony to in our words, but it is most of all something we experience, a reality into which our entire being is immersed, so that we somehow become the reality that we witness. I have mixed feelings about the Procession of Witness. It is always good to walk with Deacon Duncan, to see familiar faces in the crowd and this year to walk for the first time with Father Mat and his family. And I have great admiration for all those who give themselves so generously to the process. But the thing itself embarrasses me and is much too loud for my liking yet, in spite of my dislike, I find myself drawn into ...