Homily for The Latin School Reunion Mass
St. Mary’s Church, Moyne, County Longford, Ireland
July 5, 2008
Bishop Colm! My Latin School Brothers and Sisters! Women and Men of Moyne!
It was indeed an inspired decision, as we can see today, the decision of the three Moyne men, Pat Brady, John Joe McNamee, and JJ Smith, golden jubilarians of the Latin School this year, to have chosen this weekend for our celebrations – for the first ever general Reunion of Moyne. Inspired, because (and this doesn’t sound right) the focus of the first reading of our Mass from Zechariah (9: 9-10), is the value of a donkey in God’s work. Secondly, because the Gospel from Matthew (11: 25-30) brings us the most comforting words in all of Scripture: Come to me all you who labor and are heavily burdened and I will refresh you. We Latin School people have been on the road of life for a long time. Two of the longest are Longfordmen, Msgr. John V. Sheridan (Corrick and Malibu, California,) who was 93 on December 19, 2007 and Father Tommy O’Reilly (Moyne and the Diocese of Leeds, now residing at St. Mary’s Manor, Edgeworthstown,) who was 92 on October 16, 2007. The youngest alumnus is 48. May God refresh every Latin School person here today and everyone not here. And eternal rest and peace to every Moyne man and woman gone before us.
Did I say that the first reading from Zechariah is a good one for us Latin School people? I did. It speaks of the King, the just savior coming to us meek, riding on an ass. There is something about the Latin School men and women, something of simplicity, honest to God character, a mix of humility and dignity and decency in the way they were and are; people of dogged effort and down to earth wisdom that connects in a way to that reading from Zechariah. M’asal Beag Dubh: we all remember the endearing qualities. One could be called worse. Listen to G. K.Chesterton’s Donkey:
Fools, for I had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet
There was a shout about my ears
And palms before my feet.
Jesus picked the donkey for many reasons…what it stood for in society: the ridicule it often gets and the common sense it often has.
In the house where I was born in Rossduff, in the parish of Colmcille and Colm O’Reilly, the gable wall was in a neighbor’s field that belonged to Felix Doyle and Pat. Two bachelor brothers, long dead before my time. They had a fire on the hearth and an ass in the field that was, as they said: a terra for praetis. She would open the gate where the potatoes were kept, burrow through the clay and rushes and eat her fill from the heap. The brothers took action. They dug a hole and buried all the potatoes, covered them with rushes and clay. That night, a terrible storm came, with wind and rain and when morning dawned, everything looked the same and they couldn’t remember the exact spot. So, they had to swallow their pride, go get the creature and that ass found the potatoes immediately.
n Zechariah, the ass is chosen. Banish the chariot, God says. The chariot of upper mobility. Banish the horse from Jerusalem. The horse was the sign of power and dominance, both repugnant to God. There are not many granite asses on the monuments of the world. No, but the horse, the rider and the sword are up there. Banish the warrior’s bow, which is the bitter consequence of pride. The bow, the arrow, the bomb, every bomb from the hand grenade to the nuclear exterminator of the earth. Banish them all. Humility is never the source of these. Learn from me, says Jesus, because I am meek and humble of heart. The alumni of Moyne have learned…most of them. If Jesus came to Moyne today, he wouldn’t come in a SUV. Look at the arrogance of pride in the US today where I have spent forty-nine years. Look at the deception that gives us meaningless wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, taking life and limb and costing 500,000 dollars a minute. Would that the down-to-earth wisdom of the old Latin School would overcome such arrogance and stupidity. In St. Peter’s, Wexford, there was The Moyne Walk, a path for Moyne men only. I’m not sure of its value but maybe we could say there is “a Moyne way,” a humility that has a good chance of truth. A courage that has a good chance of perseverance. A sense of sacrifice that bears with the difficult and a down to earth sort of wisdom that keeps life on track. Indeed a love of the land we had, because to the earth we were related by blood. There often was enough clabar on our boots entering school to build a swallow’s nest.
Long before the Episcopate of our beloved Colm O’Reilly, the men of Moyne were not accepted for the home diocese of Ardagh and Clonmacnoise. They were up for export from day one. All over the world they were asked the reason why they left Ireland. It was a long answer. Ultimately, a short one: the will of God.
In this Mass, we salute them all, clergy and laity, ordained or not ordained, priests who changed course on the journey, the men and women of Moyne’s long history, those who went far afield and those who never left their field. All who tried to follow “the Moyne way.”
What we thank God for, this weekend, is not a place around here or a building on Duignan’s rock since 1897, whatever name we give it. No. We celebrate the spirit of a small area of Ireland, a well of life-giving water, a “tubber” Patrick that overflowed with vocations for a century and a half. Nearly 600 priests. As Fr. James Morris of Fihora and California (ordained in 1912) used to say: “this area was a modern version of early monastic settlements which included not only the monks, the priests, and sometimes nuns but also the families in the area of the monastery; they all joined in the masses, prayers, and devotions.” And had, I would add, a sense of mission to the ends of the earth. Between 1831 and 1973, the Latin School of Moyne in all its locations sent 172 priests from Dromard, where it is located, to the missions of the world. 103 from Colmcille. Many from every local parish. The well is low at the moment but God’s goodness is never low.
Let not the lure of riches and power drown out the gentle call of Christ: Come to me all you who are weary and find life burdensome, and I will refresh you and I will divine where the spring water of life and service is hidden. My yoke is easy.
In this Mass, let the lives and work of everyone who ever went to the Latin School in kitchen, barn, byre or schoolhouse be lifted up, the lives of every teacher who ever struggled to instill values and a smattering of Latin and Greek, the lives and hopes of all connected to the Moyne Community School that rose out of a cutaway bog in 1973 to carry on a noble tradition of learning. Let it all be elevated on this altar of the Holy Eucharist. Let it be blessed. Let it be magnified. Let it be preserved forever.
Thanks be to God for Moyne…for every man and woman who ever darkened the door of the Latin School to brighten up the face of the earth. Thanks be to God for all that it was and is and will be for the glory of God, forever and ever. Amen.
Michael Doyle, Rossduff, Parish of Colmcille, County Longford.
Latin School 1948-1953. Ordained 1959 in St. Peter’s Seminary, Wexford.
Pastor of Sacred Heart Church, Camden, New Jersey.
