10 Days ago I joined many others at Clonard Monastery for the 10th Anniversary Memorial of the death of Father Gerry Reynolds. Honestly, I was torn being there. The past few months have been hectic for various reasons, and a number of situations have put me under significant pressure and left me feeling more than a little anxious. Maybe I will be able to write about them at another time, but that time has not yet come... And on that particular evening there were many, many things clouding my heart and mind. But I had not been able to attend Father Gerry's funeral 10 years ago, so I was determined not to miss this opportunity to mark not only the death but the life of a man who was a massive influence on me and countless others.
And as it turned out it was doubly right that I was there, because a couple of people referred to a repeated refrain of Father Gerry's "Let it unfold..." And it was as if I was hearing Gerry speaking to me directly from the grave, gently correcting my need to resolve if not control the chaos around me, as he had previously done on at least one occasion when he was alive...
And I continued to muse on that phrase in the midst of the chaos... The situations that have been causing my angst have not yet unfolded or resolved and may not do so for a long time yet... But as with another idea referred to on the night with Gerry's favourite miracle at the Wedding of Cana, I need to remember that I am not the miracle worker... I am merely a filler of water jars. And I need to continue to do the tasks assigned to me.
But I also remembered him last weekend when I was conducting a baptism and one of the set readings was Zechariah's song at his son's circumcision, known by many as the "Benedictus", in Luke 1: 68-79, bringing to mind the story of Father Gerry coming to a baptism at Dundonald Methodist that I have shared widely, including this time last year when I first shared the following tribute, based very loosely on that same Song of Zechariah.
Today is the actual 10th Anniversary of his passing, and so I share this again:
Blessed be the Lord,
The God of Israel,
And of Ireland,
And other places
Accustomed to conflict.
Blessed be the Lord
Who sent you to us.
A man with his feet
Planted firmly in the clouds,
Who prayerfully watched
Over his adopted city,
which for too long had lived
under the shadow of death,
Waiting for the sun to rise,
Across dividing walls,
Before becoming the answer
To his own prayers:
Quietly visiting victims,
With other self-effacing
Bridgebuilders;
Reconciling enemies;
A smiling prophet
Leading fellow pilgrims,
To worship in new ways,
with new people,
In different places,
Longing for the day
When we can all share
At the one table;
Blessing young and old,
From all backgrounds
Along the way,
Whilst remaining
Uncompromisingly,
Uniquely yourself.
Preparing the way for others
To walk, Wenceslas-like,
In his slow, but steady,
saintly footsteps,
into the path of peacemaking.
Selah
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