OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

Waves break black And fretful Upon the Stony shore A jagged breeze Beats upon my brow This first September Night of shadowed walkers There is trouble in the air Challenges on every side And still the Curlew Sings above it all Reminding us of songs Yet to be sung Melodies to be heard And hope of healing Held

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...

  Prayer to God the Father Almighty God, my Eternal Father, from the fullness of my soul I adore You. I am deeply grateful that You have made me in Your image and likeness, and that You ever hold me in Your loving embrace. Direct me to love You with all my heart, with all my soul, and with my whole mind. Direct me to love all Your children as I love myself. O, my Father, my soul longs to be united to You, and to rest in You forever. Have the Holy Spirit touch my soul so that I may love You as He does, and as Your Beloved Son Jesus does. Amen . https://www.myprayertower.com/prayers/prayer-to-god-the-father

A lonely place, this is A lonely place A place of Hunger Anxiety Unsettlement The sadness of loss The yearning for a belonging That only exists in the womb Every conceivable form Of suffering And they would send us away To other places in search of All that we lack There is no need to go Says the Master Come to Me Surrender to me The little you have Remain with Me And eat with me The loaves and fishes Of My abundance Come Let your hunger Be satisfied Listen Let your thirst Be quenched Live Let your sorrow Be consoled

  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

  "... 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...

  Homily for July 19,2026