Tag: mass

Día de los Muertos

Monday, 2 November, 2015 0 Comments

There is a Mexican saying that we suffer three deaths: the first when we die, the second we are lowered into the earth and the third when our loved ones forget us. Día de los Muertos, which corresponds with today’s All Souls’ Day, is dedicated to ensuring that those who loved us will not be forgotten.

This morning, at 7 am in the Theatinerkirche in Munich, a special memorial mass was celebrated for the souls of Kit Fitzgerald ( 6 September 2015) and Mick Fitzgerald ( 2 April 2011) of Ballylanders, County Limerick, and Mary Walsh ( 27 December 2004) and Tom Walsh ( 12 June 2012) of Mullingar, County Westmeath. May they rest in peace.

Mammy praying on the road to Knock

“People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad.” — Marcel Proust


Johann Sebastian Bach is 330

Saturday, 21 March, 2015 0 Comments

Today is Bach in the Subways Day. In Leipzig, Los Angeles and Lviv, musicians are going underground to celebrate Johann Sebastian Bach’s 330th birthday and, given that Glenn Gould called Bach the greatest architect of sound, there’s a certain concord to their choosing of echoing spaces. Bach’s music is, in the words of the American musicologist Richard Taruskin, “a medium of truth, not beauty” and nowhere is this more evident than in his Mass in B minor. Initially, the Lutheran Bach took on the task of composing a Catholic Mass for very practical reasons — a job application. But what began as pragmatism turned into one of the benchmarks of Western civilization.


A mass of priests in Glencoshnabinnia

Thursday, 2 January, 2014 0 Comments

During the days when people travelled on horseback, there was a priest whose parish included a portion of the Galtee Mountains and it’s recalled that he decided to introduce a visiting cleric to his far-flung flock. At one point, they reached Glencoshnabinnia, which is an Anglicized form of the Gaelic for “the glen at the foot of the peaks”, and they stopped at a small home where they were made welcome and offered tea by a woman surrounded by a throng of small children.

“And how many children do you have?” asked the parish priest of the head of the household.
“21, Father,” replied the man, whose name was Brien or Ryan.
“Good heavens,” said the priest, “What do they all do?”

In response, the man began to recite a litany of names and related tasks: Jack minded the sheep; Mary was in charge of the hens; Peggy fed the cow; Billy took care of the pigs; Jim had the task of going to the well for water; Norah milked the goat; Nell baked; Tom cut turf… and before long he had listed 20 names and their occupations.

“And this little lad beside the fire,” said the parish priest. “You haven’t mentioned him. What does he do?”
“Ah, young Ned does nothing, Father. We’re thinking of making a priest out of him.”

The Galtees