Writing the threads of my reality

The shameful lament of the Dublin Diocese

The Dublin Diocesan report has been published. I've read through Part 1 so far. Here's Part 2.

This is the land of saints and scholars. Ours is an ancient culture, a proud history going back generations. Ireland is known for its friendliness, and beauty; the people are known for their warmth, and generosity.

Sometimes it seems that all the things that make my country a wonderful and admirable place have survived in spite of the activities of the Church.

I have known priests who were heroes. Leaders, Samaritans, interested in only the good of those around them; they were the ideal, the ultimate sacrificers of their own lives in service to the people. What of their faith now? What of all the good that they have done, tainted by this evil?

I have known people who were devout Catholics, and truly believed in the divine instruction of their saviour to love one another, as he had loved them. What of their belief now? What of their trust in the Church, ruined by the actions of the few?

I weep for this open wound on my country. I weep for the pain of the victims; may they find some measure of solace from the horror they have known. This strikes us all, whether we care or not, and the pain and shame will never go away until the wound is healed.

For the Church: Reach out to us. Your messiah wanted to take away the hurt of all mankind; show us you still believe that! Show us that you are still worthy of our trust!

For the people: Never forget. Never, never allow the Church or the government stay ignorant of the hurt that they cause. Demand that the Church live up to its ideals.

And the winter falls upon us

It's getting very cold here.

There was some very severe flooding in my area over the last week. My friends have no clean water; the authorities, uncaring and caring at the same time, have switched off the pumps to prevent contamination. Homes and businesses have been destroyed as the water swept through them. People are angry and afraid, looking for someone to blame while politicians and civil services wriggle away from their gaze.

Last week, when the flood was at its worst, there were rivers flowing through the streets at night. Then the morning came, and the rain stopped for a while. The sun came out for a few hours, and all was sparkling, rippling reflections of light and shadow; a town made suddenly strange and wonderful through disaster.

My heart is with those who have lost so much in the floods, but I cannot forget that I saw the worst of it, and it was beautiful.