28 May 2017

Prayers for Manchester in
Castletown and Rathkeale

Candles lit for a vigil for Manchester in Lichfield Cathedral last week

Patrick Comerford

In my sermons this morning [28 May 2017] at Morning Prayer in Castletown Church, Kilcornan, and in Holy Trinity Church, Rathkeale, Co Limerick, I tried to discuss the questions that last week’s suicide bombing in Manchester raise for Christian hope and love as come to end of Easter-tide and live in the ‘in-between time’ between the Day of Ascension and the Day of Pentecost.

These thoughts were also reflected in the prayers I read in both church this morning, drawing on prayers that came to my attention through USPG and through Manchester Cathedral.

These were among the prayers this morning:

Prayers for Manchester:

A prayer written by the Dean of Southwark, the Very Revd Andrew Nunn, for those affected by the bombing in Manchester, and shared by the Anglican mission agency, USPG:

‘In the midst of life we are in death.’
Lord, in a place of pleasure, terror struck,
in a place of life, death came,
Hold us in our shock and grief,
comfort the distressed,
heal the injured,
calm the anxious,
reunite the separated,
console the bereaved,
and give rest and everlasting peace
to those who have died,
for your love never fails
and through the darkness
your light always shines.
Amen.

The Revd Rachel Mann is an Anglican priest and poet. She is the Priest-in-Charge at the Church of Saint Nicholas, Burnage, in Manchester, Resident Poet at Manchester Cathedral, and a regular contributor to The Church Times and the BBC Radio 2’s ‘Pause For Thought.’ Her prayers for Manchester have been shared on her blog and by the Anglican Communion:

Compassionate God,
whose Love dares to dwell in the midst of us.
Be with the people of Manchester today.
Grieve with us in our grief,
search with us as we seek out lost loved ones,
wait with us in the anxiety of unknowing.

Help us to give thanks for the people of Manchester –
warm, open, generous and resilient;
Help us to draw on the spirit of solidarity
and the defiance in loss of this great city.
Be with our emergency services
in this time of trial.

In the midst of our fears,
and the fierce pain of loss;
when our commitment to justice
and mercy and kindness
is tested by death and terror,
be with us, O Lord.

Today let us mourn, let us weep;
meet us in our anger,
fear and disbelief.

Finding hope and love despite
a week of fear in Manchester

Fear, hope and love in Manchester in the past week

Patrick Comerford,

Sunday, 28 May 2017,

The Seventh Sunday of Easter,

The Sunday after Ascension Day.


11.15 a.m.: Holy Communion, Holy Trinity Church, Rathkeale, Co Limerick.

Readings: Acts 1: 6-14; Psalm 68: 1-10, 33-36; I Peter 4: 12-14, 5: 6-11; John 17: 1-11.

May I speak to you in the name of + the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

We are in a strange in-between time in the calendar of the Church this weekend.

On Thursday evening [25 May 2017], we celebrated the Day of the Ascension. Next Sunday [4 June 2017], we are celebrating the Day of Pentecost.

In the meantime, we are in what we might call ‘in-between time.’

In the reading from the Acts of the Apostle on Thursday evening [Acts 1: 1-11] and today [Acts 1: 6-14], two angels in white robes ask the disciples after the Ascension why they are standing around looking up into heaven. In the Gospel reading [Luke 24: 44-53], they return to ‘Jerusalem with great joy,’ and seem to spend the following days in the Temple.

As the story unfolds in the Acts of the Apostles, the disciples, as well as Mary and other women (see verse 14), spend their time in prayer, choosing a successor to Judas, as we are told in this morning’s first reading [Acts 1: 6-14].

Ten days after the Ascension, they are going to be filled with Holy Spirit, who comes as a gift not only to the 12 but to all who are gathered with them, including Mary and the other women, the brothers of Jesus (verse 14), and other followers in Jerusalem – in all, about 120 people (see verse 15).

But for these few days, they and we are in that in-between time, between the Ascension and Pentecost.

It is still the season of Easter, which lasts for 50 days from Easter Day until the Day of Pentecost. But this morning we are still in the Easter season, in that ‘in-between time,’ between the Ascension and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on the Church on the Day of Pentecost.

Their faith persists, but the promise has not yet been fulfilled.

They wait in hope. But until that promise is fulfilled they are, if you like, transfixed, believing with doing, unable to move from Jerusalem out into the wider word.

Is this the same upper room where they had gathered after the Crucifixion, behind locked doors, filled with fear, until the Risen Christ arrives and, as Saint John’s Gospel tells us, says to them: ‘Peace be with you … Peace be with you … Receive the Holy Spirit … forgive’ (see John 20: 19-23).

Fear can transfix, can immobilise us. It leaves us without peace, without the ability to forgive, without the power to move out into, to engage with the wider world out there.

Sometimes, our own fears leave us without peace, unwilling to forgive, unwilling to move out into the wider world.

And that is what could have happened in Manchester last week.

Fear paralyses, it leaves us without peace, and as we protect ourselves against what we most fear, we decide to define those we are unwilling to forgive so that we can protect ourselves against the unknow, so that we can blame someone for the wrong for which we know we are not guilty.

The Risen Christ tells us: ‘I am with you always, to the end of the age’ (Matthew 28: 20).

But too often we are caught between Ascension Day and Pentecost, waiting but not sure that the kingdom is to come, frightened in the terror and the pain of the present moment.

What happened in Manchester on Monday night has created unspeakable sadness and outrage that has been easier to express.

It is the sort of horror that is experienced day-by-day and week-by-week in Iraq, as we hard on the news this morning, in Egypt, where a large number of Coptic Christians were attacked in recent days, in Syria, Libya, Afghanistan, Pakistan … and so many other parts of the world.

Why does Manchester shock us?

Because we know it so well, because it is so near. It has brought the horrors of the world not just to our screens but to our doorstep. And we feel powerless, we do not know what to do.

Feeling powerless and fearful and not knowing what to do combine to make a deadly cocktail that not only immobilises us but robs us of hope.

Seeing parents frantically waiting and running at the entrance to the arena reminded so many of times we have been waiting for our own children.

The people who were killed on Monday night could be our daughters or grand-daughters. There were parents and grandparents killed too who were the same age as me – even younger.

Many of us remember an IRA bomb in almost the same location in Manchester in 1996 that could have been as devastating.

But hopefully we can also see ourselves in the nurses, the doctors, the police, the emergency responders, who responded immediately, without considering that they might be putting themselves in further danger … the taxi drivers who gave free lifts, the people who opened their doors to strangers late at night to offer comfort and shelter.

We can see ourselves in them. And hopefully we can see the face of God in those who were the victims and those who responded.

For me, the face of Christ was shown in the face of Chris Palmer, a homeless man who was in the foyer begging when the bomb went off. He told the Guardian: ‘It knocked me to the floor and then I got up and instead of running away my gut instinct was to run back and try to help.’ He described how one women with serious leg and head injuries ‘passed away in my arms. She said she had been with her family. I haven’t stopped crying.’

Or in the face of Steve, another homeless man who told ITV he had pulled nails from the arms and faces of screaming children. ‘It had to be done,’ he said. ‘You had to help, if I didn’t help I wouldn’t be able to live with myself for walking away.’

The Mail Online columnist Katie Hopkins in a despicable tweet said there was a ‘need for a final solution.’ She later deleted it, claiming it was a ‘typo.’ Well, she had misspelled Manchester. But the ‘Final Solution,’ as the Nazis called the Holocaust, was no ‘typo’ and cannot be withdrawn.

One stupid candidate in the election even called for the death penalty for suicide bombers. As I thought about that, I just wondered where do people like that draw their inspiration from.

But talk about a ‘Final Solution’ cannot even be contemplated in a civilised Europe. Indeed, it is also beyond the comprehension of people like this that, when you had up the figures, the vast majority of the victims of Isis are actually Muslims.

Instead, however, I was heartened by the Bishop of Manchester, David Walker, who lit a candle that he said symbolised an unquenchable light that no darkness could ever destroy.

Immediately after the attack, he said: ‘Today is a day … to reaffirm our determination that those who murder and maim will never defeat us.’

In what the Manchester Evening News described as ‘an inspirational speech in the aftermath of the tragedy,’ Bishop David told the vigil in Albert Square: ‘You cannot defeat us because love, in the end, is always stronger than hate,’ to rapturous applause. ‘We will pull together because we stand together. Whatever our background, whatever our religion, our beliefs, our politics we will stand together because this city is greater than the forces that align itself against it.’

As Bishop David so wisely noted, ‘Many lives will be lived out, impacted by this tragedy for long years to come. Others have had decades of life ripped away from them … But today is also a day to begin our response. A response that will crush terrorism not by violence but by the power of love. A love which Christians celebrate especially now in Eastertide.’

And this is the Easter hope.

This is the hope that we will never lose our capacity as Christians to live with the Risen Christ, listening to his desire that we should be not afraid, and that we should love one another.

This is the hope we wait for between the glory of the Ascension and the empowering gifts the Holy Spirit gives us and promises us at Pentecost.

And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Bishop David Hamilton lights a candle at the vigil in Albert Square, Manchester

The Collect:

O God the King of Glory,
you have exalted your only Son Jesus Christ
with great triumph to your kingdom in heaven:
Mercifully give us faith to know
that, as he promised,
he abides with us on earth to the end of time;
who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Introduction to the Peace:

Jesus said, Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.
I do not give to you as the world gives. John 14: 27, 28

Preface:

Through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who after he had risen from the dead
ascended into heaven,
where he is seated at your right hand to intercede for us
and to prepare a place for us in glory:

The Post-Communion Prayer:

Eternal Giver of love and power,
your Son Jesus Christ has sent us into all the world
to preach the gospel of his kingdom.
Confirm us in this mission,
and help us to live the good news we proclaim;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Blessing:

Christ our exalted King
pour on his abundant gifts
make you faithful and strong to do his will
that you may reign with him in glory:
and the blessing of God Almighty,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
be among you and remain with you always. Amen.

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Priest in Charge of the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes. This sermon was prepared for the Parish Eucharist in Holy Trinity Church, Rathkeale, Co Limerick, on Sunday 28 May 2017.

Living in the ‘in-between time’,
without fear, with hope and love

Bishop David Hamilton lights a candle at the vigil in Albert Square, Manchester

Patrick Comerford,

Sunday, 28 May 2017,

The Seventh Sunday of Easter,

The Sunday after Ascension Day.


9.45 a.m.: Morning Prayer, Castletown Church, Kilcornan, Co Limerick.

Readings: Acts 1: 6-14; Psalm 68: 1-10, 33-36; I Peter 4: 12-14, 5: 6-11; John 17: 1-11.

May I speak to you in the name of + the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

We are in a strange in-between time in the calendar of the Church this weekend.

On Thursday evening [25 May 2017], we celebrated the Day of the Ascension. Next Sunday [4 June 2017], we are celebrating the Day of Pentecost.

In the meantime, we are in what we might call ‘in-between time.’

In the reading from the Acts of the Apostle on Thursday evening [Acts 1: 1-11] and today [Acts 1: 6-14], two angels in white robes ask the disciples after the Ascension why they are standing around looking up into heaven. In the Gospel reading [Luke 24: 44-53], they return to ‘Jerusalem with great joy,’ and seem to spend the following days in the Temple.

As the story unfolds in the Acts of the Apostles, the disciples, as well as Mary and other women (see verse 14), spend their time in prayer, choosing a successor to Judas, as we are told in this morning’s first reading [Acts 1: 6-14].

Ten days after the Ascension, they are going to be filled with Holy Spirit, who comes as a gift not only to the 12 but to all who are gathered with them, including Mary and the other women, the brothers of Jesus (verse 14), and other followers in Jerusalem – in all, about 120 people (see verse 15).

But for these few days, they and we are in that in-between time, between the Ascension and Pentecost.

It is still the season of Easter, which lasts for 50 days from Easter Day until the Day of Pentecost. But this morning we are still in the Easter season, in that ‘in-between time,’ between the Ascension and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on the Church on the Day of Pentecost.

Their faith persists, but the promise has not yet been fulfilled.

They wait in hope. But until that promise is fulfilled they are, if you like, transfixed, believing with doing, unable to move from Jerusalem out into the wider word.

Is this the same upper room where they had gathered after the Crucifixion, behind locked doors, filled with fear, until the Risen Christ arrives and, as Saint John’s Gospel tells us, says to them: ‘Peace be with you … Peace be with you … Receive the Holy Spirit … forgive’ (see John 20: 19-23).

Fear can transfix, can immobilise us. It leaves us without peace, without the ability to forgive, without the power to move out into, to engage with the wider world out there.

Sometimes, our own fears leave us without peace, unwilling to forgive, unwilling to move out into the wider world.

And that is what could have happened in Manchester last week.

Fear paralyses, it leaves us without peace, and as we protect ourselves against what we most fear, we decide to define those we are unwilling to forgive so that we can protect ourselves against the unknown, so that we can blame someone for the wrong for which we know we are not guilty.

The Risen Christ tells us: ‘I am with you always, to the end of the age’ (Matthew 28: 20).

But too often we are caught between Ascension Day and Pentecost, waiting but not sure that the kingdom is to come, frightened in the terror and the pain of the present moment.

What happened in Manchester on Monday night has created unspeakable sadness and outrage that has been easier to express.

It is the sort of horror that is experienced day-by-day and week-by-week in Iraq, as we hard on the news this morning, in Egypt, where a large number of Coptic Christians were attacked in recent days, in Syria, Libya, Afghanistan, Pakistan … and so many other parts of the world.

Why does Manchester shock us?

Because we know it so well, because it is so near. It has brought the horrors of the world not just to our screens but to our doorstep. And we feel powerless, we do not know what to do.

Feeling powerless and fearful and not knowing what to do combine to make a deadly cocktail that not only immobilises us but robs us of hope.

Seeing parents frantically waiting and running at the entrance to the arena reminded so many of times we have been waiting for our own children.

The people who were killed on Monday night could be our daughters or grand-daughters. There were parents and grandparents killed too who were the same age as me – even younger.

Many of us remember an IRA bomb in almost the same location in Manchester in 1996 that could have been as devastating.

But hopefully we can also see ourselves in the nurses, the doctors, the police, the emergency responders, who responded immediately, without considering that they might be putting themselves in further danger … the taxi drivers who gave free lifts, the people who opened their doors to strangers late at night to offer comfort and shelter.

We can see ourselves in them. And hopefully we can see the face of God in those who were the victims and those who responded.

For me, the face of Christ was shown in the face of Chris Palmer, a homeless man who was in the foyer begging when the bomb went off. He told the Guardian: ‘It knocked me to the floor and then I got up and instead of running away my gut instinct was to run back and try to help.’ He described how one women with serious leg and head injuries ‘passed away in my arms. She said she had been with her family. I haven’t stopped crying.’

Or in the face of Steve, another homeless man who told ITV he had pulled nails from the arms and faces of screaming children. ‘It had to be done,’ he said. ‘You had to help, if I didn’t help I wouldn’t be able to live with myself for walking away.’

The Mail Online columnist Katie Hopkins in a despicable tweet said there was a ‘need for a final solution.’ She later deleted it, claiming it was a ‘typo.’ Well, she had misspelled Manchester. But the ‘Final Solution,’ as the Nazis called the Holocaust, was no ‘typo’ and cannot be withdrawn.

One stupid candidate in the election even called for the death penalty for suicide bombers. As I thought about that, I just wondered where do people like that draw their inspiration from.

But talk about a ‘Final Solution’ cannot even be contemplated in a civilised Europe. Indeed, it is also beyond the comprehension of people like this that, when you had up the figures, the vast majority of the victims of Isis are actually Muslims.

Instead, however, I was heartened by the Bishop of Manchester, David Walker, who lit a candle that he said symbolised an unquenchable light that no darkness could ever destroy.

Immediately after the attack, he said: ‘Today is a day … to reaffirm our determination that those who murder and maim will never defeat us.’

In what the Manchester Evening News described as ‘an inspirational speech in the aftermath of the tragedy,’ Bishop David told the vigil in Albert Square: ‘You cannot defeat us because love, in the end, is always stronger than hate,’ to rapturous applause. ‘We will pull together because we stand together. Whatever our background, whatever our religion, our beliefs, our politics we will stand together because this city is greater than the forces that align itself against it.’

As Bishop David so wisely noted, ‘Many lives will be lived out, impacted by this tragedy for long years to come. Others have had decades of life ripped away from them … But today is also a day to begin our response. A response that will crush terrorism not by violence but by the power of love. A love which Christians celebrate especially now in Eastertide.’

And this is the Easter hope.

This is the hope that we will never lose our capacity as Christians to live with the Risen Christ, listening to his desire that we should be not afraid, and that we should love one another.

This is the hope we wait for between the glory of the Ascension and the empowering gifts the Holy Spirit gives us and promises us at Pentecost.

And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Fear, hope and love in Manchester in the past week

The Collect:

O God the King of Glory,
you have exalted your only Son Jesus Christ
with great triumph to your kingdom in heaven:
Mercifully give us faith to know
that, as he promised,
he abides with us on earth to the end of time;
who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Introduction to the Peace:

The Blessing:

Christ our exalted King
pour on his abundant gifts
make you faithful and strong to do his will
that you may reign with him in glory:
and the blessing of God Almighty,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
be among you and remain with you always. Amen.

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Priest in Charge of the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes. This sermon was prepared for Morning Prayer in Castletown Church, Kilcornan, Co Limerick, on Sunday 28 May 2017.

Saint John’s Church, a surviving
reminder of mediaeval Limerick

Saint John’s Church stands on the site of a church dating back to the 11th or 12th century (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2017)

Patrick Comerford

Saint John’s is one of the five original parishes in Limerick City, the others being, Saint Munchin’s, Saint Michael’s, Saint Mary’s and Saint Patrick’s. During my visit to Saint John’s Roman Catholic Church this week, I also visited neighbouring Saint John’s Church, the former Church of Ireland parish church.

This Saint John’s Church stands on the site of an earlier church in the Irishtown area of the city, which dated from the 1200s. The link between Saint John the Baptist and the area is long-standing. According to the local historian Begley, the Knights Templars had a house in this area in the 12th century that was dedicated to Saint John the Baptist.

The pre-Reformation mediaeval church dedicated to Saint John the Baptist dates back to before the 15th century, perhaps as early as the 11th or 12th century. This important site is adjacent to the former John’s Gate and the town walls where the existing Citadel is located and incorporated within Saint John’s Hospital.

During the Reformation, Saint John’s became the property of Edmund Sexton. The mediaeval church was demolished in the 1850s, when it was replaced by Saint John’s Church of Ireland parish church. The new Saint John’s was oriented to address an open side of John’s Square

The Romanesque door at the west end of Joseph Welland’s 1850s church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2017)

Saint John’s was built by the architect Joseph Welland (1798-1860) in the Norman Romanesque style in 1851. It was intended to accommodate 1,000 people. The church stands at one end of John’s Square, the first development of Newtown Pery, and predates Saint John’s Roman Catholic Cathedral.

The foundation stone of the new Saint John’s was laid on 15 January 1851 and the church was dedicated on Saint John’s Day, 24 June 1852.

The architect Joseph Welland was born in Cork. He was the architect to the Board of the First Fruits for seven years. When the board was dissolved in 1838, he was appointed to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners as one of four architects, working alongside James Pain. He was finally nominated sole architect to the Church of Ireland, and his works include over 100 churches.

Saint John’s is a free-standing double-height Romanesque-style limestone church, built in 1851-1852 on the site of the earlier mediaeval church. The gabled west elevation has a centrally-placed Romanesque portal door opening and a blind arcade of three round arches at first floor level, with a rose window in the gable above. Welland indicated a debt to AWN Pugin by roofing the nave, apse and aisles separately, and by revealing the roof structure.

There is a square-plan three-stage tower at the south-west corner, with a splay-foot pyramidal limestone spire, rising from a nail-head enriched cornice, decorated with foliate fleurs-de-lis to the corners and capped by a foliate finial.

There is an apsidal east end and a sacristy at the north-east corner.

The north and south sides are made up of four-bay, single-storey, aisle elevations, with a clerestorey elevation articulated by shallow piers and an oculus window to each bay. There are squared and snecked tooled limestone ashlar walls throughout, with smooth limestone ashlar dressing, including a plinth course, sill courses, a dentil enriched eaves course and copings with supporting corbel blocks to the gable parapet walls.

The five-sided apse has limestone ashlar piers with squared and snecked walls and a dentil enriched eaves band. The single and paired round-arched aisle windows in the aisle and apse elevations have limestone ashlar reveals, flush canted sills and plain glazing. The windows are obscured by recently-installed metal security grilles.

The Russell Mausoleum in Saint John’s churchyard (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2017)

The ancient church grounds form an island site in the middle of busy traffic. The walls around the graveyard were built in 1693 to replace walls damaged during the siege of Limerick and there are many significant tombs, table tombs and grave markers in the grounds.

A folk tale in the area says this is the burial place of the poet Brian Merriman (ca 1747-1805), author of the satirical Cúirt an Mheán Oíche (The Midnight Court). It was the burial place too for many Limerick merchant families, including the Russell family who ran the largest mills in Limerick in the mid-19th century.

The Russell mausoleum is a fine classical mausoleum and adds significantly to the architectural and social history of the site. It is well-composed and the classical temple elevation contrasts with the Romanesque elements of Saint John’s Church.

John Norris Russell was merchant who also became a ship-owner and industrialist. He built the Newtown Pery Mills on Russell’s Quay and the Newtown Pery store nearby on Henry Street, and he was one of the founders of the Limerick Savings Bank.

This limestone mausoleum, built in 1873, has a tetrastyle temple front in the Doric order. Limestone ashlar walls with Doric pilaster supporting plain entablature and pediment. The heraldic decorations include cast-iron relief goat figure above ribbon band with the Russell motto and date: Che Sara Sara 1873.

A plaque reads: ‘Here lieth the mortal remains of Francis Russell who died the 25th day of August 1800. He was an affectionate husband, a kind and indulgent parent, a true friend & an honest man.’ Another plaque reads: ‘John Norris Russell dedicated this monument to his father Francis Russell. A tender husband, an affectionate parent, a kind friend & an honest man.’

The Unthank Mausoleum in Saint John’s churchyard (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2017)

The Unthank mausoleum is also in the style of a classical temple. This limestone mausoleum on a raised limestone podium was built ca 1850 for the Unthank family, with an aedicular façade in the Doric order. The ashlar stonework facing has been recently removed from the street-facing east elevation. There is a square-headed door opening with a Greek Revival architrave.

A plaque reads: ‘IHS. The remains of Robert Unthank, Esq, are deposed in this monument. Who died May 1814, aged 26 years. Also the remains of his mother Mrs Mary Unthank who died Sep. 22, 1847 aged 75 years. And his sister, Mrs Percy Scanlan who died February 4th 1829, aged 37 years.’

Another plaque reads: ‘IHS. To the memory of John Unthank, Esq. of Thomas Street on this city who departed this life on the 19th February 1849, aged 57 years. This monument is erected as a small testimony of the respect and affection of his sorrowing wife and children.’

The fountain in Cathedral Place erected by the Unthank family (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2017)

The Unthank family is also associated with the public fountain outside the church grounds in Cathedral Place. This Gothic Revival-style drinking fountain was erected by the Jubilee Committee in 1865. It once met the sanitary and health needs of local people in Saint John’s Parish.

A plaque reads: ‘The inhabitants of St John’s Square are earnestly requested to protect this fountain from injury.’ Another plaque reads: ‘This fountain was erected by the suggestion of the late Isaac Unthank Esq, former Hon Sec of the Society for the benefit of the inhabitants of St John’s Parish and for which the corporation have granted a free supply of water.’

The rectory for the parish was at No 3 John’s Square. It is easily identified with its elaborate doorway, composite pillars and fanlight. The last Rector of Saint John’s to live here was Canon Frederick Langbridge (1849-1922), a novelist, poet and dramatist. His daughter Rosamund was the author of three novels, The Flame and the Flood (1908), Land of the Ever Young (1920) and The Green Banks of the Shannon (1929).

As the Anglican population in Limerick city fell into decline, the church fell into disuse in the early 1970s and it was handed over to the Limerick Corporation in 1975.

The interior was completely redesigned and for a period the church was used as a base for the Dagdha Dance Company and is now the hub for Dance Limerick.

The former rectory in John’s Square (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2017)