PEACEMAKER Fr Gerard Reynolds C.Ss.R. 1935 – 2015
NEWSLETTER OF THE IRISH REDEMPTORISTS SPECIAL SUPPLEMENT
Fr Gerry Reynolds – A Sketch of a Life By Brendan McConvery, C.Ss.R.
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r Gerard Reynolds was born in the village of Mungret, Co Limerick, on March 18, 1935, in the shadow of a sixth century monastery founded by St Nessan. About ten days before Gerry arrived, Ronny Delaney, the great Irish athlete and winner of Olympic gold, had been born, and a few days later, Mahmoud Aabbas, President of Palestine, entered the world. On July 12, of that year, sectarian rioting broke out in Belfast. Over the following week, 2,000 people, mainly Catholics, were forced to leave their homes and many were driven out of workplaces, especially in the shipyards. Most of the eleven people killed in the 1935 riots were Protestants, but the majority of those injured or forced from their homes were Catholic (86%). Gerry Reynolds was still engaged with that tragic human story at the time of his death. Beginnings The Reynolds family were typical of the people of rural Ireland, hard working and devoutly Catholic. Times were hard for most of the twentieth century in rural Ireland, but young Gerry was born and grew up in even more austere times. Ireland had been locked in an economic war with Great Britain since 1932, and the first tentative signs of resolution, a Cattle-Coal Pact, came just the January before he was born. Although the Republic was officially neutral during World War II, his childhood was spent in an era of rationing of practically every daily commodity. The family were struck a serious blow when Gerry was just six years old with the death of their father. The Reynolds family had a long and distinguished Redemptorist pedigree. Two of his uncles, Frs. Gerard and James, were already members of the Congregation, and both would make distinguished contributions to the Catholic life of the city of Belfast. Fr Gerry (Senior) was Rector of Clonard during its glory days in the 1940s, when the Novena was packing the church every Thursday. It was he who arranged for the gates to be installed around Our Lady’s shrine, and encouraged Clonard’s first ecumenical outreach in the unfortunately named, “Mission to Non-Catholics.” Fr James became Rector of the new foundation, St Gerard’s on the Antrim Rd, and would later be director of St Clement’s Retreat House. A cousin, Fr Dermot O’Mahony, came somewhere between the uncles and Gerry and his younger brother Pat who later also joined the congregation. Gerry entered the Redemptorists in Esker as a sprightly seventeen year old in August, 1952 and spent the following year under the stern tutelage of Fr Charles McNiffe, his novice master. He was professed on 8 September, 1953. Seen even then as intellectually promising, he was chosen to begin his studies by taking a degree in arts at University College, Galway. After that, it was back to Cluain Mhuire for four years of theology before ordination in 1960. The final months of theology in Galway were complemented by a further ‘pastoral year’ in Limerick, during which the recently ordained Redemptorists learned the art of writing long mission sermons (still close to an hour in length!) and the skills of a good confessor. There was a practical side to this year with some initiation into the experience of mission-giving.
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Ministry of Communications The young Fr Reynolds was not destined to spend much of his time in what was the main ministry of Redemptorists in Ireland then. He soon became part of a team that transformed The Redemptorist Record from a run of mill ‘missionary magazine’ of the day to make it a magazine of comment and information on the rapidly changing church of the period of Vatican II and renaming it as Reality in the process. Under the editorship Michael O’Connor, Gerry was more involved in promotion and in managing the financial side, though he did edit a few issues of Reality. His growing interest in journalism and religious communication drew him into a circle of young priests, who with the encouragement of the oft-maligned Archbishop John Charles McQuaid, were using the media in creative ways. They included Frs. Joe Dunne and Peter Lemass, who had mastered the art of making informative documentaries on a shoe-string and they formed the original nucleus of the Catholic Communications Centre in Booterstown. Along with Peter Lemass, Gerry was a founder member of the Jesus-Caritas fraternity of priests inspired by the life and teachings of the French hermit, Charles de Foucauld, who died in Algeria in 1916. Central to De Foucauld’s spirituality was the spirit of Nazareth, based on humble presence among the poorest and Eucharistic adoration. For several years, Gerry organised the ‘month of Nazareth,’ when priests from around the country spent part of their holidays in the rough and ready surroundings of the Redemptorist students’ holiday house at Clifden, following a regime of prayer that included lengthy periods of adoration and a weekly ‘desert day,’ as well as times for sharing their own experience of priestly ministry. In 1975, he was appointed Rector of the Redemptorist Community in Limerick. Despite a certain joy in returning to his roots and being closer to his family and the next generation, it did not prove to be an easy time. It was a time of transition in religious life, that often included disagreement among members of the same community about basic things such as the nature of priestly ministry or religious life. Looking back on this time in the course of an interview for Reality in 2009, Gerry confessed with equal measure of humility and pain: “I think I was a failure as a leader of the community. After three years, I was not selected for reappointment, and that was a great blow to my self esteem. They were painful, difficult years, but looking back, that time was formative for me. I am now able to cope with failure.” A period that brought a degree of healing was spent in Esker where apart from the peace and quiet of the monastery, he had the opportunity to resume his acquaintance with parish missions. This time of peace came to an end some five years later when he was asked to go to Clonard Monastery in Belfast to take part in its ecumenical ministry. © Courtesy of The Irish News
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At Home in Clonard Clonard’s experiment with an ecumenical apostolate had begun in the 1940s when his uncle, Fr Gerry Reynolds Senior, was Rector. Despite its unfortunate title, the “Clonard Mission to Non-Catholics” was not a proselytising mission, but an attempt to make the teachings of Catholicism better known and in a way that was free from the hostile and polemical spirit that usually reigned in Belfast on religious matters. His nephew drew inspiration from the French priest, Paul Couturier, founder of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Couturier believed that all Christians could unite in prayer according to their own traditions for the sanctification of the world and the unity of Christ’s people, since “the walls of separation did not reach to heaven.” This became a saying Gerry made his own. Ecumenism in Belfast in the 1980s and 90s, was no vicarage tea party, however. When a person might be murdered or their home bombed just because they were known to be Catholic or Protestant, or when clergy had discreetly to check under their car for the possibility of a bomb after attending a meeting outside their own area, it required a willingness to move far beyond secure boundaries to find friendship. Gerry Reynold’s heart was programmed for friendship. As he began to reach out and establish bonds across the community and denominational divide, a partnership developed between him and Rev Sam Burch, the Methodist minister on the Springfield Road. They met when Gerry suggested that they visit together the family of a UDR man, Denis Taggart, who had been shot dead outside his home in front of his 13-year-old son. Sam said Denis Taggart’s mother and Gerry cried when he presented her with a carving of a weeping Jesus. Particularly close was his friendship with Rev Ken Newell, minister of Fitzroy Presbyterian Church, and his wife Valery and their Fitzroy congregation. Through Val and Ken, that web of friendship just kept growing. It included the most unlikely people, such as members of Loyalist paramilitary associations or evangelical clergy who had been brought up to distrust Roman Catholics, especially priests. With another member of the Clonard Community, Fr Al Reid, Gerry walked the dangerous path of promoting dialogue with paramilitaries of both sides and progressively drawing others into that dialogue. Clonard became a centre for the peace-process. The two priests were often viewed with suspicion and criticised by churchmen and politicians alike, often most woundingly by those on their own side, though with honourable exceptions. Slowly the dialogue bore fruit in the form of the ceasefire and IRA disarmament and the Good Friday Agreement. In Word and Sacrament The opportunity for a sabbatical year of study presented itself in 1990. Gerry was a natural student and a voracious reader. While most of his brethren chose the theological institutes of the United States for their sabbaticals, Gerry showed, as ever, a streak of originality. The University of Notre Dame, in commemoration of the visit of Pope Paul VI’s visit to the Holy Land, founded an ecumenical institute on a hill midway between Bethlehem and Jerusalem. It attracted scholars for personal research and church personnel on sabbatical with a view to enlarging their biblical horizons in the Land of the Book. This was an ideal location for Gerry, as it brought him into closer contact with the daily lived reality of the scriptures and opened him to a wider ecumenism that made room for Judaism and Islam. Gerry Reynolds was a natural contemplative. It is probably one of the reasons he was so drawn to the spirituality of Charles de Foucauld, through both the priestly fraternity and his friendship with the Little Sisters of Jesus. Contact with De Foucauld’s spirituality paradoxically led him back to aspects of his own Redemptorist tradition, with its emphasis on the mystery of Christ as “Crib, Cross and Sacrament” in which daily adoration was normal and its preference to preach the Gospel to the poor For Gerry Reynolds, the journey towards unity of all the Christian Churches was nothing less than the moment when they would share the Body of the Lord at the common table. During the last years of his life, each Sunday morning, he led a group of “Unity Pilgrims” to a service in a Protestant Church somewhere in Belfast. For him, it was important to observe the discipline of his own church and of the host church. It was an intense grief to be deprived of the gift at communion time. Gerry was able to find a moment of unity that was, in its own manner, sacramental. In the last article he wrote which was published in the January/February 2016 number of Reality, he described an experience at communion
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service at Fitzroy: “I was sitting between two Fitzroy couples who devoutly took their sacrament of Jesus’ presence as the bread and wine were passed along. In the conviction that our obedience to Church discipline will bring nearer the longed for day of a common Eucharist, I did not partake of the sacramental bread and wine, painful though abstaining was, but I took the plate and the tray reverently into my hands, held each of them for a still prayerful moment before handing them on.“ “Life is Changed, Not Ended” Fr Gerry was suddenly taken ill on Saturday, November 27 and died early in the morning of 30th, the Feast of St Andrew. The few days before that, he had been in excellent form. He had attended a conference in England involving Christians and Jews to commemorate the Golden Jubilee of Nostra Aetate, Vatican II’s teaching document on the Catholic Church and non-Christian religions and on his return, the launch of a book to which he had contributed a chapter. Ten days previously, he had hosted a gathering in Clonard, attended by Rabbi David Singer (Belfast Synagogue) and by Sheik Anwar Mady (Belfast Islamic Centre) on Nostra Aetate. Gerry’s funeral was a testimony to the graces of a life well lived in the service of God and the churches. An almost never ending stream of people from all over Northern Ireland came to pray and to pay their respects to his body, as it lay serenely in the Conference Room in Clonard. On the Wednesday evening, there was an ecumenical service in Clonard Church at which several of his friends spoke. Some of their words are included in this little collection. After the funeral Mass, his body was brought to Milltown Cemetery, where with Al Reid and other members of the Clonard Community whose life he shared for so many years, he awaits the Resurrection of the dead.
Fr Gerry Reynolds C.Ss.R. Born: March 18, 1935 Profession: September 24, 1953 Ordination: September 25, 1960 Returned to God: November 30, 2015
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All Around Thought for the Day on BBC Northern Ireland By Pádraig Ó Tuama
© Courtesy of Pádraig Ó Tuama
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friend of mine died on Monday. I was going into a meeting and got a text, then suddenly I wasn’t going into a meeting. I stood in the corridor, contacted friends, cried in the corner. My friend was 80. I am 40. I got to know him in my first week living in Belfast in 2003. I was living on the Falls Road. I was interested in ecumenical work, and everybody said “You need to meet Fr Gerry in Clonard.” I called in. I expected to talk reconciliation. But for an hour, Fr. Gerry asked about my family, my friends, my story, my faith. For the last 12 years we’ve taken regular walks. Fr. Gerry’s reputation is as a man of peace, but we mostly talked about poetry. He had a life-long habit of memorising poems, reciting them during morning prayers. Walking up Glencairn one damp day, he recited Edwin Muir’s “One foot in Eden,” word for word. Another time, he recited TS Elliot’s “The Journey of The Magi” with all the sincerity of prayer. And another time, we both recited Patrick Kavanagh’s “Advent” to each other. In the middle of all of this poetry, we would talk and then Gerry would interrupt this to chat with everybody he saw. “Lovely day” he’d say to every walker. “Lovely doggie” he’d say to the
dog-walkers, “What a snazzy bike” he’d say to the people trying to get past us on the Lagan Towpath. He made me late for a meeting once because he engaged us in a long conversation about Calvin with two Methodist women we met walking along the strand at Holywood. I held an 1980’s party for my 30th birthday and Fr. Gerry came along dressed in his cassock. “This is what I wore in the 80s” he said, giggling into his Guinness. “Thanks a thousand” he’d say, holding long to your hand with his own warm hands, translating directly from the Irish “Go raibh míle maith agat” with his twin focuses of accuracy and poetry. Thinking of his love of poetry, love of form, and love of languages, both Irish and English, I wrote a poem yesterday. It’s a sonnet — Gerry always was a man for poetic form. All Around. The first day I met you, you asked questions in the parlour for an hour — our history started then, and the rest is story. And it’s the evening now, you’re gone, and I am full of mourning. You held onto everybody’s hand with your big hands — soft skin, warm and some kind of kindlight in your eyes, some small poem always hovering on the lips, always anxious that righteousness and peace could kiss, always moved to the truest truth that love can be woven into all of this, all of this. And even though it’s still the evening and I’ll be grieving for a while, the morning light you lit is burning like a fire, all around, all around. The last time we walked was a few months ago. We took a wander through Woodvale Park on the Shankill. Gerry looked at the outdoor gym equipment in the Park, “Teach me how to use these” he said. So, a 40 and an 80 year old used the gym equipment for half an hour. He couldn’t stop laughing while he tried the elliptical machine. Gerry had a philosophy that said “Why use five words when you can use fifty?” He was never in a rush with words. When enquiring about my romantic life, he once said: “Tell me Pádraig, is there anybody in your life, with whom you have a …shared geography of the heart, a kind of companionship of the soul, a meeting place of mind and spirit… in a homosexual fashion?” I said “Are you asking if I have a partner?” He said “Well, I suppose I am.” With characteristic charm, Gerry showed me, again, that he was interested in reconciling all things, meeting stories with hearth and hospitality, warmth and welcome. For Gerry the world was a place of curiosity. He searched for friendships where others saw enmity. In my own Advent grief, I remember that Gerry saw spirit shocking wonder everywhere. He heard it in the whispered argument of a churning, he always saw the January flower, he saw all as decent folk, seeing wonder wherever life pours ordinary plenty.
Pádraig Ó Tuama is the Corrymeela Community leader and brings interests in poetry, language, theology and conflict studies to his work.
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Fr. Gerry - A radical saint An address delivered at the Ecumenical Thanksgiving Service in Clonard Monastery for Fr Gerry Reynolds’ life and ministry on Wednesday December 2, 2015. By the Very Rev Ken Newell
© Courtesy of the Very Rev Ken Newell
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s I stand at this lectern, inches away from the body of one of the most deeply loved servants of Christ in this province, I am struggling to put into one short sentence what Fr. Gerry is whispering into my spirit and indeed is saying to all of us. What comes to me is this: ‘Don’t settle for a comfortable conservatism in your faith but reach for, strain for the dream he has planted in your heart.’ Since the news of Fr. Gerry’s sudden death on Monday morning, my wife Val and I have been in shock. We have lost a cherished friend of 30 years. Just over a month ago he shared a salmon and asparagus dinner with us in our home and the three of us chatted long into the evening. Before leaving, he prayed for us and recited over us the words of Psalm 23, ‘The Lord is my shepherd’. He loved the Psalms, knew many of them by heart, and in this simple and moving way blessed the friends with whom he prayed. He was in good form but easily tired. “Those you love don’t pass on, they pass in” In a mysterious way I feel closer to him right now. He has rarely been out of my mind during the busyness of the day or the slow passing night hours of a disrupted sleep. Part of me would
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have loved a walk with him along the Lagan for just one last time, to say my goodbyes, but maybe that would have been too emotionally difficult for both of us. At this moment I am experiencing the truth of the old Irish proverb that ‘those you love don’t pass on, but pass in’. Gerry knew without a shadow of a doubt that Val and I, and so many in Fitzroy, loved him dearly. We have been not only enriched and changed by his friendship but constantly challenged and inspired by his vision for the unity of Christians within the life of the Church and the reconciliation of the estranged communities within our province. Since his passing, I have been trying to capture the motivating passion of Fr. Gerry’s life which was itself a sacrament of grace freely offered to everyone without hesitation or reservation. In many ways he was light years ahead of the churches yet gentle in his nudging of them towards the one Table of our one Lord. He was, in my eyes, ‘a radical saint gripped by the radical vocation of turning strangers into friends in the manner of the Most Holy Redeemer he loved and served’. Turning on the heating He carried forward this mission with an extraordinary warmth of spirit. If the late Fr. Alec Reid of Clonard was a spiritual electrician who repaired the severed cables of communication between our rival political groupings and got the lights of dialogue back on, Fr. Gerry specialised in installing central heating. In the traditionally chilly church climate of Ulster, he and his Unity Pilgrims have over the years worshipped the same Triune God on Sundays with numerous congregations of various theological hues and in the process forged deep and lasting relationships. Thankfully there are now dozens of Christian groups beavering away together to defrost the lingering suspicion-laden religious attitudes and in their place generate the warmth of spiritual openness, hope and peace. It is an indubitable fact that no Catholic priest in the history of Ireland has attended and befriended more Protestant churches than Fr. Gerry Reynolds. That’s why he is known and loved in the north, south, east and west of this great city and far beyond. So many of us have journeyed this evening with sorrow and joy into Fr. Gerry’s spiritual home because he travelled into ours and put down roots of grace. In 1985, when Fr Gerry arrived in Belfast to head up the Clonard’s Peace and Reconciliation Ministry, I drove nervously across town to meet him. I was hoping that we could relate to each other in a natural and easy way that would enable us to give stabilising leadership to the fragile Fitzroy-Clonard Fellowship which had just been formed four years earlier. I need not have worried. Although in many ways we were very different, there was a chemistry of grace between us that grew into a loyal and adventurous relationship. Our friendship focussed on ending violence, eroding the spiritual apartheid between the churches, and nurturing a process of dialogue which would lead towards exclusively democratic and inclusive which would stimulate greater communal reconciliation. I am a Catholic for you: You are a Protestant for me Over the next thirty years, many unparalleled opportunities opened up for us at crucial moments in the life of the province to witness together to our vision of a peaceful, progressive, and shared future. We have seen miracles of changing attitudes and political breakthroughs that have ushered Northern Ireland into a place where the future we dream of is within the grasp of those who will have the courage to reach out for it. Throughout all those years, in a country where trust is in short supply, our faith in each other’s motives, intentions and actions was never shaken. Rather, we sought to help each other ‘walk with God’. Gerry often reminded me and my fellow Presbyterians: ‘I am a catholic for you, not against you; I want you to be a protestant for me, not against me.’ Of crucial importance in the development of my friendship with Fr. Gerry was his opening the doors of Clonard to me and introducing me to the whole family of Christian faith who worship in this sacred place. I have grown to love them with a deep affection. In June 2008 they even threw a party in the monastery gardens for Val, me and the members of Fitzroy when I retired. If Fr Gerry has worshipped in more Protestant churches than any priest in the history of Ireland, I hold the proud distinction of
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being the most hugged Presbyterian minister in the history of the Catholic Church in Ireland. I also opened up the doors of Fitzroy to Gerry and introduced him to our congregation whose love for him and Clonard’s Unity Pilgrims blossomed steadily over the years. On many occasions, when we have been worshipping together, tears of affection would run down his face. None more so that when my successor, Rev Steve Stockman, invited Fr. Gerry to address the congregation two weeks ago at the opening of our new Welcome Centre. He choked up with tears at various points of his speech. But these were tears of joy at being so much at home among our people and feeling waves of affection and admiration flowing from the pews. If we say “Our Father,” we are brothers and sisters But Fr. Gerry and I quickly discovered that we were much more than just friends or partners in peace. A few years ago I was preaching in a small and crowded Presbyterian Church in County Donegal. It was an evening Thanksgiving Service marking the long history of the congregation’s life and witness, and, as it should be, representatives of all the nearby churches of Christ were present. Two local priests were in the congregation, and as the service continued longer than they were accustomed to, the older one beside the radiator seemed to fall into a deep sleep as I made my way through my sermon. Towards the end of it, I shared with the congregation a little of my friendship with Fr. Gerry and asked them a simple question: ‘If, at the close of the day, Fr. Gerry in West Belfast puts his head back on a pillow in bed and prays “Our Father who art in heaven....”, and in South Belfast, before falling asleep, I also pray “Our Father who art in heaven....”, what does that make us?’ As the congregation momentarily fell silent to work out the answer, the old priest seemed to wake up suddenly and, above the murmurs of all the other voices, shouted out ‘You’re brothers!’ When I commented that I was slightly hard of hearing and couldn’t fully make out what they were all saying, back came the resounding and unified reply, ‘You’re brothers!’ Such indeed is the transforming truth of the radical Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: our heavenly Father has only one family and as a result we are all brothers and sisters called to display this new reality in a fractured and estranged world. This is the simple Gospel which burned like a fire inside the spirit of Fr Gerry the radical saint. That is why he whispers to us afresh this evening: ‘Don’t settle for a cosy conservatism in your faith but reach for, strain for the dream he has planted in your heart.’ In short, embrace an inclusive lifestyle which mirrors that of our great Redeemer Jesus Christ.’ This was also the radical creed of the Apostle Paul in his Letter to the Ephesians 4:4-6: ‘There is one Lord, one Faith, one baptism, one Body, one Spirit, one hope to which he has called you, one God and Father of us all who works through all of us and lives in all of us.’ In these last few days, some people have said to me, ‘I don’t think we’ll ever see the like of Fr. Gerry again.’ It’s not a view I personally share. I believe that we will see him again as each of us, in this large congregation, go out into a thousand different locations across this province and island to reproduce and perpetuate where we live Christ’s mission of turning strangers into friends. This, more than anything else, would bring Fr. Gerry’s supreme joy.
Very Rev. Dr. Ken Newell, a close friend of Gerry, is Former Moderator of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland and Minister Emeritus of Fitzroy Presbyterian Church, Belfast.
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Let it all unfold Homily at the Requiem Mass for Fr. Gerry December 3rd, 2015 By Noel Kehoe C.Ss.R.
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ver these past days, tributes have poured in from every section of society through the media and in person. Last night, we experienced a powerful testimony to Fr. Gerry’s contribution to Peace, Reconciliation, Ecumenism. So many of Gerry’s achievements are in the public domain. His great qualities of friendship, humility, kindness have been acknowledged. I won’t attempt to repeat these achievements. There are, however, many aspects of his life that I could share; his love of poetry, his love of long walks in nature: of course as a Limerick man, he was a hurling and rugby fanatic. But today I would like to share with you something of the last days of Fr. Gerry’s life, which offer us an important insight into who the man was, and what lay at the heart all he did. Vision In today’s first reading from the Book of Amos, we hear God promise to pour our his spirit on his people, that they may dream dreams and behold visions. Gerry was a dreamer, an idealist, a visionary. And so I bring us back to last Thursday, when he attended a book launch for which he had written a chapter on Ecumenism (Vatican II and Ireland, ed Niall Coll). Gerry’s big dream of course was the ecumenical one. And his Redemptorist brothers here can testify that he missed no opportunity to talk about his dream for unity. Ken Newell last night said that no Catholic priest in Ireland was in so many Protestant churches. This fame was both the source of admiration and some harmless fun. Some indeed suspected he was secretly a Protestant! A story is told of the time he was travelling and his car broke down. A local car dealer went to the rescue to discover Gerry had put petrol in a diesel car. His report to the community afterward was,‘That fella might know something about Protestants, but he knows nothing about cars!!” But Gerry’s ecumenical dream was not a lofty academic endeavour. In his own words, it was a journey, a pilgrimage, an experience. He likened it once to the great pilgrimage walk of the Camino de Santiago. It’s a long journey but you make progress one small step at a time. If any of you have done that walk in the north of Spain, you will know that feet get blisters. If you focus on your feet, you’ll give up. Rather, the promise of reaching Santiago can keep you focused, allowing you to walk through the problems. In the same way, while pursuing the ecumenical dream, Gerry’s doggedly refused to allow setbacks or conventional wisdom to distract from the goal of peace and unity. This empowered him to cross barriers, to do, literally what others would not dare to do. Sam Burch gave a powerful witness to that last night in describing their visit to the widow of Dennis Taggart, a murdered UDR man on the Shankill in 1986. Those things weren’t done! Another oft quoted joke amongst ourselves was the quip of a fellow Redemptorist that Gerry Reynolds had both feet firmly planted in mid-air!! Yes, certainly some of Fr. Gerry’s ideas were impractical, but his ecumenical dream lasted the course because it was sustained, not by public opinion or pragmatism, but by something much deeper. It was sustained by Fr. Gerry’s conviction that the unity of the Church of Christ was already a reality, but one that our human and egocentric structures have obscured. His real task was not to bring it about, but to find ways to express it.
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One of Fr. Gerry’s spiritual heroes was Fr. Paul Couturier, who was described as “a man who came out of the future.” In that sense, Gerry too came out of the future, and for him the future was ecumenical. If the churches are to witness to the redeeming life, death and resurrection of Christ, then they must witness together. His job, as a pilgrim, was simply to keep walking. He didn’t need to work out every detail but keep his focus on the end goal. Leave the details to God. Thus his great one liner to every question about the details was “Don’t worry, let it all unfold!” Mission: On returning from Dublin last Friday, Fr. Gerry celebrated his last mass, with members of the travelling community. He was tired, but this mass was important to him. He saw a need, a chance to bring people close to God and he willingly responded. Certainly, Gerry had his ecumenical commitments, but life and ministry as a Redemptorist was expressed in the parlours of the monastery, meeting, listening, blessing people, visiting the prisons, meeting families in need. Over these days the same stories are told and retold … how he helped families, his visits to the sick, the little ones, the poor, prisoners. Together with his family, his friends, his Redemptorist brothers, these too grieve the passing of their priest, who for some was the very face of God. Indeed, to his own brothers in community, he was that face of Godly kindness, of fun. He loved any excuse to gather with his brothers, and if a drink appeared, it was he who proposed a toast to our health. He made our porridge every morning!! To this extent, Gerry exemplified St Paul’s instruction to ‘contribute to the needs of others, practice hospitality. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly’ (cf Romans 12:15-18). Prayer: Last Friday, after celebrating mass, Fr. Gerry was spotted slipping into the community oratory for quiet prayer. All are called to pray. Some of us struggle with it. Some master the discipline. For Gerry prayer was both a discipline, and, I suspect, the very air he breathed. He was a man who shared God’s vision for unity. He was a man with an eye for the weak. But all this was fuelled by an immense commitment to prayer. This is the side of Fr. Gerry’s life that mightn’t be so well known. Gerry was an ecumenist, and he deeply loved the other Christian churches. But that did not lessen his love for his own church, and its many devotional and mystical treasures. • He loved the Eucharist. He spent hours alone before the blessed sacrament. • He was faithful to the daily prayer of the church. • Mary was for him the great disciple bringing us to her Son. He prayed the rosary. • He memorised the scriptures, especially the psalms and in the course of a meeting might recite one by heart. Many people over these days have said, ‘he was a walking saint.’ That means different things to different people, but for me, my sense is that we lived in the company of a mystic. Through prayer, Fr. Gerry was plunged daily into the mystery of Triune God. This was the source of his goodness, his kindness, his vision and his dream. His ecumenical work, his outreach to the poor, his life in community were in fact tangible expressions of a God whose will for us all is powerfully singular - Shalom - peace. And in Fr Gerry, St Francis’ prayer became a reality - for an instrument of peace - walked in our midst. As he lay dying, Fr. Peter Burns said to me … “there are worse things than death.” It is true, and I have no doubt that Fr. Gerry has been immersed fully into the mystery of his Triune God. He is at peace. No doubt smiling, greeting old friends and perhaps coming up with a few ideas to change heaven! As we open this year of Mercy, we entrust our good brother, Gerry, to the Father with whom there is mercy and fullness of Redemption. Over these past days, many tributes were paid to Fr. Gerry’s life and contribution to peace and reconciliation. Paul Couurier, whom I mentioned earlier was one of the great influences in Fr. Gerry’s life. On the seats, you received his prayer for Christian Unity, which Fr. Gerry prayed daily. The finest tribute to his work and legacy would be to take this prayer and make it your own. Shalom is the will of God. In the footsteps of Fr. Gerry, we need be to walk the journey and let it all unfold. I invite you now to stand and together, we pray for the unity of the churches.
A native of Newry, Fr Noel Kehoe CSsR is Rector of Clonard Monastery
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Making God’s Dreams Come True Homily at the Month’s Mind Mass
Fr Gerry’s Month’s Mind Mass was the Vigil Mass for the Feast of the Epiphany, and Fr Burns, the celebrant, drew on the scripture readings for the feast (Isaiah 60:1-6 , Ephesians 3:2-3,5-6 and the Gospel according to St Matthew, 2:1-12) to explore some aspects of Gerry’s ministry. By Peter Burns C.Ss.R.
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f you look into the crib this evening, you’ll see there are new arrivals: the Magi, the wise men. You’ll notice that they are different, foreign, strangers, outsiders, from the east. In other words, they’re not Jews. They’re Gentiles. Their presence in the crib is of immense significance: Jesus, born of Mary at Bethlehem, is given to us as Saviour – not just of one nation and people, but of all nations and peoples. As we heard in the reading from Ephesians, “pagans now share the same inheritance … they are parts of the same body … the same promise has been made to them, in Christ Jesus.” God’s Own Dream And we, of course, are numbered among the pagans, the Gentiles. For that reason, this is in a special way our feast. We’re reminded in the Epiphany of God’s own dream for God’s people and for the world: • When the forces of evil will be defeated and overcome; • When the human family will live in harmony and love; • When there’s an end to suffering and sin and toil; • Above all, when there’s no more death. In the Hebrew scriptures, God is seen as the Shepherd, as that great force gathering all the nations together into unity, into one flock: an all-embracing, inclusive force – breaking down all barriers, overcoming whatever separates. God’s dream begins to be a reality in Jesus – in himself, in his life, in his ministry, in his death and resurrection. Jesus was the One who crossed boundaries, who broke taboos, who reached out to those on the outside, to the excluded and the rejected. And gradually, gradually he came to the realisation that his mission wasn’t just to “the lost sheep of the house of Israel”, but to lost sheep wherever they were: Canaanite and Samaritan… He declared that “many will come from east and west and share the banquet with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven.” Making God’s Dream Come True If God’s dream is to be kept alive, if it is to become reality in our world, then it’s our responsibility to make that happen. “The walls of separation” certainly “do not reach to heaven.” But there are still lots of walls which do separate: as we’ve seen in recent months, walls and barriers built on borders between nations – built
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to exclude, to keep people out – people “from the east;” or the so-called “Peace-lines/walls” in this city and throughout Northern Ireland. When we work to remove barriers, to take those walls down, to bring those who have been separated together – then we’re doing God’s work, we’re being faithful to Jesus who desired and prayed that there would be only “one flock and one shepherd.” Gerry Reynolds and the Epiphany We know how deeply all of this resonated in the heart of Gerry Reynolds. He loved this feast. It had a very special appeal for him, because he understood its meaning. In the days following his death, we began to realise – if we hadn’t already known it – just how many people there were whose lives he had touched. There were many people, and they came from a very wide range of places and backgrounds. I sat over those two days in the Conference Room where his remains lay, and saw many of those who came to pay their respects. And what was so striking for me was the number of those individuals who cried, who shed tears. Like Jesus, who wept when his friend Lazarus died [Jn11:36], these people wept because they loved Gerry. And, I think, they loved him because they had known themselves, in some way, loved by him. As Fr Pat said at the funeral, Gerry wasn’t perfect. No one knew that better than Gerry himself. But when he was in what I’d describe as “ministry mode,” then he had a special gift or capacity to connect with people – especially with individuals. There was a warmth, a gentleness about him. He didn’t ever judge: people knew they weren’t being judged. They felt accepted as they were.Indeed, I’d say, there was something indiscriminate about Gerry’s care for people. Let me read for you a letter which he received just six weeks before his death: Dear Father Gerry, I am writing this letter because I see you often around Clonard and especially at the time of the Novenas and I have often wanted to approach you to thank you personally for something you did a long time ago. You may not even remember, which is why I have not stopped you. In 2003 my mother was very sick with depression and was admitted to hospital. We thought that there was no light at the end of the tunnel. One day, she had been let out for a few hours and when we were returning she was very distressed and panicked. At this stage, we met you and you will never understand the relief and calmness that came over her as you prayed with her in the hall. I have never forgotten this, and have admired and respected you from afar, and have often wished to tell you that my mother is now in great health and works in the community helping others. …. You helped us all greatly that night with your calmness and your gentle ways. I have always wanted to thank you personally for your help that night. I will never forget it. So simple! So beautiful! And it could be replicated scores and scores of times! As I said, there was, indeed, something indiscriminate about Gerry’s care for people. Just as there is something indiscriminate about God’s love. There was something of God’s heart in him. And there was something Alphonsian about his heart – in the sense that Gerry had a special care for those mentioned in this evening’s Psalm: “the poor … the needy … the helpless … the weak.” I’m absolutely sure that God worked in and through Gerry. And that was possible because Gerry was surrendered to God in a prayer which was deep and generous. So, this evening – as we celebrate God’s gift of Jesus who is Saviour of all nations and peoples, we re-commit ourselves to keep working to make God’s dream a reality. We give thanks for, and we take inspiration from, the wonderful way in which Gerry himself did that, right up to the end of his life. I’d like to finish with a poem. If Gerry were here himself, I’m sure he’d recite Eliot’s ‘Journey of the Magi’. But here’s another poem – from nearer home. One I think he might like. It was written by John F Deane. Bunnacurry church is in Achill, Co Mayo.
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TOWNLAND Bethlehem: the village, and the townland, crowded and expectant like a fair day in Bunnacurry; in our dark cowhouse there were snuffling sounds and the warm, rich reek of cattle. Bethlehem: Joseph and Mary standing, wide eyes fixed on one another, the whimper of a boy-child in between; brown earth outside was frumped and sodden under the slow breathing of mist. A harsh half-moon shivered on the frosted road down to the Bunnacurry church, and we, children, bundled ourselves tight in winter coats, our breathing forming anger-shapes on the biting air. It was just a birth; one out of millions that had come before, of millions that would come after: this one birth neither a beginning, nor an ending: a turning-point merely, though shading all that went before, all after, tossing the rags and peelings of time into the uncertain texture of eternity. Bethlehem: stars above the caverned escarpment. Crib and candle-light in Bunnacurry chapel, where we knelt awed by festival, by the silence surrounding, by the animals. Š John F Deane Used with permission
Born in County Donegal, Fr Peter Burns CSsR grew up in Belfast. He is a member of the Clonard Community and is well-known as a spiritual director and retreat giver.
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Three of Fr Gerry Reynolds’ Favourite Prayers Prayer for Unity by Paul Couturier
Prayer of Abandonment by Charles de Foucauld
Act of Spiritual Communion by St Alphonsus
Lord Jesus, who prayed that we might all be one, we pray to You for the unity of Christians, according to Your will, according to Your means. May Your Spirit enable us to experience the suffering caused by division, to see our sin, and to hope beyond all hope. Amen
Father, I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures I wish no more than this, O Lord. Into your hands I commend my soul: I offer it to you with all the love of my heart, for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with boundless confidence, for you are my Father.
My Jesus, I believe that you present in the Blessed Sacrament. I love you above all things and I desire to receive you into my soul. Since I cannot now receive Thee sacramentally, come at least spiritually into my heart. I embrace you as if you were already and I unite myself wholly to you. Never permit me to be separated from you.
Edited by Brendan McConvery C.Ss.R., Design & Layout by David Mc Namara C.Ss.R. Photo Credits: Redemptorist Communications, The Irish News, Pádraig Ó Tuama and Very Rev. Dr. Ken Newell. Published by Redemptorist Communications, Unit A6, Santry Business Park, Swords Road, Dublin D09 X651. Telephone: 00353-1-4922488 www.redcoms.org ©REDEMPTORIST COMMIUNICATIONS MAY 2016