A fishing boat with its nets on deck at the harbour in Panormos on the Greek island of Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
Sunday 21 January 2018,
The Third Sunday after the Epiphany.
11.30 a.m.: The Parish Eucharist (Holy Communion 2), Saint Brendan’s Church, Kilnaughtin, Tarbert, Co Kerry.
Readings: Jonah 3: 1-5, 10; Psalm 62: 5-12; I Corinthians 7: 29-31; Mark 1: 14-20.
May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Many years ago, while I hitch-hiking and youth-hostelling in the Peaks on the borders of Staffordshire and Derbyshire in my late teens, and staying in Ilam Hall, I came across the work of Izaak Walton (1593-1683), who wrote biographies of John Donne, George Herbert and Richard Hooker, and who also wrote The Compleat Angler.
In The Compleat Angler, Izaak Walton says fishing can teach us patience and discipline. Fishing takes practice, preparation, discipline; like discipleship, it has to be learned, and learning requires practice before there are any results.
And sometimes, whether it is fishing in a river or fishing in the sea, the best results can come from going against the current.
Walking along the pier in small Greek fishing villages, I sometimes watch the careful early morning work of the crews on the trawlers and fishing boats. It is a lesson that good fishing does not come about by accident. It also requires paying attention to the nets, moving them carefully, mending them, cleaning them after each and every use, hanging them out to dry.
Jonah tries to escape by sailing to the ends of the earth ... the harbour in Iraklion, Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Most of us, when we think of Jonah, who is at the heart of our Old Testament reading, immediately think of the big fish, which may help make connections with the fishing scene that provides the setting for our Gospel reading.
Jonah is the archetypal reluctant prophet. Earlier, God calls him to ‘Go at once to Nineveh ... and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.’ Jonah tries to escape by sailing to the ends of the earth.
But God is not going to let go of Jonah; and God now calls him a second time. This time, Jonah obeys, and he goes to Nineveh, the capital of Assyria. But it seems Jonah is easily distracted and happy with half measures. He goes to the city, but after a day he only got half-way into Nineveh.
Even then, God works through Jonah. The people of Nineveh react positively: they believe, they acknowledge their godlessness, and later their king repents.
We can see in that story the outward signs of repentance: a change of attitude to others, or turning away from evil and violence; and acknowledging God’s freedom in how God responds to our repentance.
In our Epistle reading (I Corinthians 7: 29-31), the Apostle Paul writes from Ephesus to the Christians of Corinth, calling them to live a life of repentance, for ‘the time we live in will not last long,’ reminding them that ‘the present time is passing away.’
He reminds us that we live in a time between Christ’s first coming and Christ’s second coming, a time in which the Church is called to bring as many as possible to believe in him and to follow his ways. And so, our epistle reading too is an important preparation for hearing the Gospel story of the call of Andrew and Peter, James and John, and for being reminded of our own call too.
Fishing boats at the harbour in Dingle, Co Kerry (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
In our Gospel reading (Mark 1: 14-20), we move from being told of Christ’s temptation in the wilderness to his return to Galilee. His message begins with ‘the time is fulfilled’ (verse 15): the time appointed by God, the decisive time for God’s action, has arrived. ‘The kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news’ (verse 15).
To repent does not mean to feel badly or guilty. It means to change my behaviour, to re-align it with new principles, new beliefs, new understandings, new insights, new objectives, new goals and new values. The feelings that accompany repentance can range from sorrow over past deeds, to joy for new options; from anger over past false hopes, to confidence in now finding firm ground.
To ‘believe in the good news’ could also be translated as ‘trust into the Good News.’ This is not a call to believe in terms of having an opinion about the factual accuracy of Good News. Instead, Christ is calling for a radical, total, unqualified response in which I base my life no matter what the risks may be.
Now we too are called to adopt God’s way, to ‘believe in the good news’ we hear about the very beginning of the Gospel. It could be said that the whole of Saint Mark’s Gospel is a working out of the meaning and implication of this.
When the first four disciples are called they immediately leave their previous occupations, and follow Christ. This immediacy of response is a mark of this Gospel. These disciples owned nets (verse 19), and they had employees (‘hired men,’ verse 20), so they were people of rank. They gave up security and family to follow Christ and to devote themselves to his mission.
It is interesting to note how one of the first things Christ does is to recruit followers. Proclaiming the Good News and that the Kingdom of God is near is not a one-man show. Instead, it involves building up communities, and creating relationships that embody the Good News.
Fishing was carried out at night so that the freshly caught fish could be sold as soon as possible in the morning. So, being out at night – and smelling of fish – made fishing a disreputable occupation.
Christ sees Simon and Andrew at night, or just before dawn, as they are actively fishing. He then sees James and John after dawn – they have finished their night’s work and are in their boat, mending their nets.
The first four people Christ calls are engaged in a dirty and demanding occupation. Their friends and neighbours must have reacted with alarm and suspicion, and probably talked about how their response was breaking up their families and breaking down the social fabric of their community.
Are you finding your calling to follow Christ difficult when it comes to family relationships and maintaining your relationship with your community, with those you work with or those who are your neighbours?
Sometimes, like Jonah, do you feel like taking another journey, or just going half-way?
Mending the nets on a fishing boat in the harbour in Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
I do not know which was a more difficult and demanding task: being a fisherman on the Sea of Galilee, or being a Disciple of Christ … especially when the call comes from someone who has withdrawn to Galilee after the arrest of his cousin, the one who publicly baptised and acclaimed him, Saint John the Baptist.
Either way, the four first disciples were going to have no lazy day by the shore or the river bank, or as followers of Christ. Becoming ‘fishers of men,’ ‘fishing for people,’ is going to bring these Galilean fishers into a relationship not only with Christ, but with their families, with their neighbours, with the tax collectors, with Pharisees, with Sadducees and Zealots, with the powers of this world, with Gentiles, with the people who sat in darkness and in the region of the shadow of death.
Sometimes in the Church, we do not cast our nets far enough or deep enough. No wonder then that most of the time, when we pull in those nets, we find them empty.
There is a saying that fish come in three sizes, small ones, medium ones and the ones that got away.
As Christians, can we passively stand by the bank or on the shore, content with two sizes of fish. We are called to go after the one that others let get away, not just those who come to Church regularly, but their families, their neighbours, the tax collectors, the Pharisees, Sadducees and Zealots of our age, the powers of this world, the Gentiles, and especially with those people who sit in darkness and in the region of the shadow of death.
Time and again in the Gospels, the Kingdom of God is compared to a huge net cast over different numbers of people and species. We are the ones called to cast that net. But to do so we need to attend to our own discipline, endurance, and patience.
Being a Christian is not passive following of Christ. We cannot hang any sign outside our church doors saying: ‘Gone Fishin’.’ There is a sad and broken world out there that needs to hear about God’s unbounded and generous love.
And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
(The Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Priest-in-Charge, the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes. This sermon was prepared for the Third Sunday after Epiphany, 21 January 2018.
Fishing boats on the quay at Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The Penitential Kyries:
God be merciful to us and bless us,
and make his face to shine on us.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
May your ways be known on earth,
your saving power to all nations.
Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
You, Lord, have made known your salvation,
and reveal your justice in the sight of the nations.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
The Collect:
Almighty God,
whose Son revealed in signs and miracles
the wonder of your saving presence:
Renew your people with your heavenly grace,
and in all our weakness
sustain us by your mighty power;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Introduction to the Peace:
Our Saviour Christ is the Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and of peace
there shall be no end. (Isaiah 9: 6, 7)
Preface:
For Jesus Christ our Lord
who in human likeness revealed your glory,
to bring us out of darkness
into the splendour of his light:
The Post-Communion Prayer:
Almighty Father,
your Son our Saviour Jesus Christ is the light of the world.
May your people,
illumined by your word and sacraments,
shine with the radiance of his glory,
that he may be known, worshipped,
and obeyed to the ends of the earth;
for he is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Blessing:
Christ the Son be manifest to you,
that your lives may be a light to the world:
Reflections on the water at the Fish and Eels at Dobbs Weir, near Hoddesdon, Hertfordshire … we cannot hang any sign outside church doors saying: ‘Gone Fishin’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
21 January 2018
As Christians, can we
stand passively by
the bank or on the shore?
A fisherman takes care of his nets in a harbour on the Greek island of Samos (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
Sunday 21 January 2018,
The Third Sunday after the Epiphany.
9.30 a.m.: Morning Prayer, Saint Mary’s Church, Askeaton, Co Limerick.
Readings: Jonah 3: 1-5, 10; Psalm 62: 5-12; I Corinthians 7: 29-31; Mark 1: 14-20.
May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Many years ago, while I hitch-hiking and youth-hostelling in the Peaks on the borders of Staffordshire and Derbyshire in my late teens, and staying in Ilam Hall, I came across the work of Izaak Walton (1593-1683), who wrote biographies of John Donne, George Herbert and Richard Hooker, and who also wrote The Compleat Angler.
In The Compleat Angler, Izaak Walton says fishing can teach us patience and discipline. Fishing takes practice, preparation, discipline; like discipleship, it has to be learned, and learning requires practice before there are any results.
And sometimes, whether it is fishing in a river or fishing in the sea, the best results can come from going against the current.
Walking along the pier in small Greek fishing villages, I sometimes watch the careful early morning work of the crews on the trawlers and fishing boats. It is a lesson that good fishing does not come about by accident. It also requires paying attention to the nets, moving them carefully, mending them, cleaning them after each and every use, hanging them out to dry.
Most of us, when we think of Jonah, who is at the heart of our Old Testament reading, immediately think of the big fish, which may help make connections with the fishing scene that provides the setting for our Gospel reading.
Jonah tries to escape by sailing to the ends of the earth ... the harbour in Iraklion on the Greek island of Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Jonah is the archetypal reluctant prophet. Earlier, God calls him to ‘Go at once to Nineveh ... and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.’ Jonah tries to escape by sailing to the ends of the earth.
But God is not going to let go of Jonah; and God now calls him a second time. This time, Jonah obeys, and he goes to Nineveh, the capital of Assyria. But it seems Jonah is easily distracted and happy with half measures. He goes to the city, but after a day he only got half-way into Nineveh.
Even then, God works through Jonah. The people of Nineveh react positively: they believe, they acknowledge their godlessness, and later their king repents.
We can see in that story the outward signs of repentance: a change of attitude to others, or turning away from evil and violence; and acknowledging God’s freedom in how God responds to our repentance.
In our Epistle reading (I Corinthians 7: 29-31), the Apostle Paul writes from Ephesus to the Christians of Corinth, calling them to live a life of repentance, for ‘the time we live in will not last long,’ reminding them that ‘the present time is passing away.’
He reminds us that we live in a time between Christ’s first coming and Christ’s second coming, a time in which the Church is called to bring as many as possible to believe in him and to follow his ways. And so, our epistle reading too is an important preparation for hearing the Gospel story of the call of Andrew and Peter, James and John, and for being reminded of our own call too.
Fishing boats at the harbour in Dingle, Co Kerry (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
In our Gospel reading (Mark 1: 14-20), we move from being told of Christ’s temptation in the wilderness to his return to Galilee. His message begins with ‘the time is fulfilled’ (verse 15): the time appointed by God, the decisive time for God’s action, has arrived. ‘The kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news’ (verse 15).
To repent does not mean to feel badly or guilty. It means to change my behaviour, to re-align it with new principles, new beliefs, new understandings, new insights, new objectives, new goals and new values. The feelings that accompany repentance can range from sorrow over past deeds, to joy for new options; from anger over past false hopes, to confidence in now finding firm ground.
To ‘believe in the good news’ could also be translated as ‘trust into the Good News.’ This is not a call to believe in terms of having an opinion about the factual accuracy of Good News. Instead, Christ is calling for a radical, total, unqualified response in which I base my life no matter what the risks may be.
Now we too are called to adopt God’s way, to ‘believe in the good news’ we hear about the very beginning of the Gospel. It could be said that the whole of Saint Mark’s Gospel is a working out of the meaning and implication of this.
When the first four disciples are called they immediately leave their previous occupations, and follow Christ. This immediacy of response is a mark of this Gospel. These disciples owned nets (verse 19), and they had employees (‘hired men,’ verse 20), so they were people of rank. They gave up security and family to follow Christ and to devote themselves to his mission.
It is interesting to note how one of the first things Christ does is to recruit followers. Proclaiming the Good News and that the Kingdom of God is near is not a one-man show. Instead, it involves building up communities, and creating relationships that embody the Good News.
Fishing was carried out at night so that the freshly caught fish could be sold as soon as possible in the morning. So, being out at night – and smelling of fish – made fishing a disreputable occupation.
Christ sees Simon and Andrew at night, or just before dawn, as they are actively fishing. He then sees James and John after dawn – they have finished their night’s work and are in their boat, mending their nets.
The first four people Christ calls are engaged in a dirty and demanding occupation. Their friends and neighbours must have reacted with alarm and suspicion, and probably talked about how their response was breaking up their families and breaking down the social fabric of their community.
Are you finding your calling to follow Christ difficult when it comes to family relationships and maintaining your relationship with your community, with those you work with or those who are your neighbours?
Sometimes, like Jonah, do you feel like taking another journey, or just going half-way?
Mending the nets on a fishing boat in the harbour in Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
I do not know which was a more difficult and demanding task: being a fisherman on the Sea of Galilee, or being a Disciple of Christ … especially when the call comes from someone who has withdrawn to Galilee after the arrest of his cousin, the one who publicly baptised and acclaimed him, Saint John the Baptist.
Either way, the four first disciples were going to have no lazy day by the shore or the river bank, or as followers of Christ. Becoming ‘fishers of men,’ ‘fishing for people,’ is going to bring these Galilean fishers into a relationship not only with Christ, but with their families, with their neighbours, with the tax collectors, with Pharisees, with Sadducees and Zealots, with the powers of this world, with Gentiles, with the people who sat in darkness and in the region of the shadow of death.
Sometimes in the Church, we do not cast our nets far enough or deep enough. No wonder then that most of the time, when we pull in those nets, we find them empty.
There is a saying that fish come in three sizes, small ones, medium ones and the ones that got away.
As Christians, can we passively stand by the bank or on the shore, content with two sizes of fish. We are called to go after the one that others let get away, not just those who come to Church regularly, but their families, their neighbours, the tax collectors, the Pharisees, Sadducees and Zealots of our age, the powers of this world, the Gentiles, and especially with those people who sit in darkness and in the region of the shadow of death.
Time and again in the Gospels, the Kingdom of God is compared to a huge net cast over different numbers of people and species. We are the ones called to cast that net. But to do so we need to attend to our own discipline, endurance, and patience.
Being a Christian is not passive following of Christ. We cannot hang any sign outside our church doors saying: ‘Gone Fishin’.’ There is a sad and broken world out there that needs to hear about God’s unbounded and generous love.
And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
(The Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Priest-in-Charge, the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes. This sermon was prepared for the Third Sunday after Epiphany, 21 January 2018.
Fishing boats on the quay at Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The Penitential Kyries:
God be merciful to us and bless us,
and make his face to shine on us.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
May your ways be known on earth,
your saving power to all nations.
Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
You, Lord, have made known your salvation,
and reveal your justice in the sight of the nations.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
The Collect:
Almighty God,
whose Son revealed in signs and miracles
the wonder of your saving presence:
Renew your people with your heavenly grace,
and in all our weakness
sustain us by your mighty power;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Blessing:
Christ the Son be manifest to you,
that your lives may be a light to the world:
Reflections on the water at the Fish and Eels at Dobbs Weir, near Hoddesdon, Hertfordshire … we cannot hang any sign outside church doors saying: ‘Gone Fishin’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
Sunday 21 January 2018,
The Third Sunday after the Epiphany.
9.30 a.m.: Morning Prayer, Saint Mary’s Church, Askeaton, Co Limerick.
Readings: Jonah 3: 1-5, 10; Psalm 62: 5-12; I Corinthians 7: 29-31; Mark 1: 14-20.
May I speak to you in the name of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Many years ago, while I hitch-hiking and youth-hostelling in the Peaks on the borders of Staffordshire and Derbyshire in my late teens, and staying in Ilam Hall, I came across the work of Izaak Walton (1593-1683), who wrote biographies of John Donne, George Herbert and Richard Hooker, and who also wrote The Compleat Angler.
In The Compleat Angler, Izaak Walton says fishing can teach us patience and discipline. Fishing takes practice, preparation, discipline; like discipleship, it has to be learned, and learning requires practice before there are any results.
And sometimes, whether it is fishing in a river or fishing in the sea, the best results can come from going against the current.
Walking along the pier in small Greek fishing villages, I sometimes watch the careful early morning work of the crews on the trawlers and fishing boats. It is a lesson that good fishing does not come about by accident. It also requires paying attention to the nets, moving them carefully, mending them, cleaning them after each and every use, hanging them out to dry.
Most of us, when we think of Jonah, who is at the heart of our Old Testament reading, immediately think of the big fish, which may help make connections with the fishing scene that provides the setting for our Gospel reading.
Jonah tries to escape by sailing to the ends of the earth ... the harbour in Iraklion on the Greek island of Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Jonah is the archetypal reluctant prophet. Earlier, God calls him to ‘Go at once to Nineveh ... and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.’ Jonah tries to escape by sailing to the ends of the earth.
But God is not going to let go of Jonah; and God now calls him a second time. This time, Jonah obeys, and he goes to Nineveh, the capital of Assyria. But it seems Jonah is easily distracted and happy with half measures. He goes to the city, but after a day he only got half-way into Nineveh.
Even then, God works through Jonah. The people of Nineveh react positively: they believe, they acknowledge their godlessness, and later their king repents.
We can see in that story the outward signs of repentance: a change of attitude to others, or turning away from evil and violence; and acknowledging God’s freedom in how God responds to our repentance.
In our Epistle reading (I Corinthians 7: 29-31), the Apostle Paul writes from Ephesus to the Christians of Corinth, calling them to live a life of repentance, for ‘the time we live in will not last long,’ reminding them that ‘the present time is passing away.’
He reminds us that we live in a time between Christ’s first coming and Christ’s second coming, a time in which the Church is called to bring as many as possible to believe in him and to follow his ways. And so, our epistle reading too is an important preparation for hearing the Gospel story of the call of Andrew and Peter, James and John, and for being reminded of our own call too.
Fishing boats at the harbour in Dingle, Co Kerry (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
In our Gospel reading (Mark 1: 14-20), we move from being told of Christ’s temptation in the wilderness to his return to Galilee. His message begins with ‘the time is fulfilled’ (verse 15): the time appointed by God, the decisive time for God’s action, has arrived. ‘The kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news’ (verse 15).
To repent does not mean to feel badly or guilty. It means to change my behaviour, to re-align it with new principles, new beliefs, new understandings, new insights, new objectives, new goals and new values. The feelings that accompany repentance can range from sorrow over past deeds, to joy for new options; from anger over past false hopes, to confidence in now finding firm ground.
To ‘believe in the good news’ could also be translated as ‘trust into the Good News.’ This is not a call to believe in terms of having an opinion about the factual accuracy of Good News. Instead, Christ is calling for a radical, total, unqualified response in which I base my life no matter what the risks may be.
Now we too are called to adopt God’s way, to ‘believe in the good news’ we hear about the very beginning of the Gospel. It could be said that the whole of Saint Mark’s Gospel is a working out of the meaning and implication of this.
When the first four disciples are called they immediately leave their previous occupations, and follow Christ. This immediacy of response is a mark of this Gospel. These disciples owned nets (verse 19), and they had employees (‘hired men,’ verse 20), so they were people of rank. They gave up security and family to follow Christ and to devote themselves to his mission.
It is interesting to note how one of the first things Christ does is to recruit followers. Proclaiming the Good News and that the Kingdom of God is near is not a one-man show. Instead, it involves building up communities, and creating relationships that embody the Good News.
Fishing was carried out at night so that the freshly caught fish could be sold as soon as possible in the morning. So, being out at night – and smelling of fish – made fishing a disreputable occupation.
Christ sees Simon and Andrew at night, or just before dawn, as they are actively fishing. He then sees James and John after dawn – they have finished their night’s work and are in their boat, mending their nets.
The first four people Christ calls are engaged in a dirty and demanding occupation. Their friends and neighbours must have reacted with alarm and suspicion, and probably talked about how their response was breaking up their families and breaking down the social fabric of their community.
Are you finding your calling to follow Christ difficult when it comes to family relationships and maintaining your relationship with your community, with those you work with or those who are your neighbours?
Sometimes, like Jonah, do you feel like taking another journey, or just going half-way?
Mending the nets on a fishing boat in the harbour in Rethymnon in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
I do not know which was a more difficult and demanding task: being a fisherman on the Sea of Galilee, or being a Disciple of Christ … especially when the call comes from someone who has withdrawn to Galilee after the arrest of his cousin, the one who publicly baptised and acclaimed him, Saint John the Baptist.
Either way, the four first disciples were going to have no lazy day by the shore or the river bank, or as followers of Christ. Becoming ‘fishers of men,’ ‘fishing for people,’ is going to bring these Galilean fishers into a relationship not only with Christ, but with their families, with their neighbours, with the tax collectors, with Pharisees, with Sadducees and Zealots, with the powers of this world, with Gentiles, with the people who sat in darkness and in the region of the shadow of death.
Sometimes in the Church, we do not cast our nets far enough or deep enough. No wonder then that most of the time, when we pull in those nets, we find them empty.
There is a saying that fish come in three sizes, small ones, medium ones and the ones that got away.
As Christians, can we passively stand by the bank or on the shore, content with two sizes of fish. We are called to go after the one that others let get away, not just those who come to Church regularly, but their families, their neighbours, the tax collectors, the Pharisees, Sadducees and Zealots of our age, the powers of this world, the Gentiles, and especially with those people who sit in darkness and in the region of the shadow of death.
Time and again in the Gospels, the Kingdom of God is compared to a huge net cast over different numbers of people and species. We are the ones called to cast that net. But to do so we need to attend to our own discipline, endurance, and patience.
Being a Christian is not passive following of Christ. We cannot hang any sign outside our church doors saying: ‘Gone Fishin’.’ There is a sad and broken world out there that needs to hear about God’s unbounded and generous love.
And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
(The Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Priest-in-Charge, the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes. This sermon was prepared for the Third Sunday after Epiphany, 21 January 2018.
Fishing boats on the quay at Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The Penitential Kyries:
God be merciful to us and bless us,
and make his face to shine on us.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
May your ways be known on earth,
your saving power to all nations.
Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
You, Lord, have made known your salvation,
and reveal your justice in the sight of the nations.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
The Collect:
Almighty God,
whose Son revealed in signs and miracles
the wonder of your saving presence:
Renew your people with your heavenly grace,
and in all our weakness
sustain us by your mighty power;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Blessing:
Christ the Son be manifest to you,
that your lives may be a light to the world:
Reflections on the water at the Fish and Eels at Dobbs Weir, near Hoddesdon, Hertfordshire … we cannot hang any sign outside church doors saying: ‘Gone Fishin’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The cycle of life as the year
passes in a country parish
At the introduction to the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes on 20 January 2017
Patrick Comerford
Donald Trump may be marking one year in the White House today, although gridlock on Capitol Hill means there is no joy in the White House on this day. Indeed, the world may be fretting at how so much has changed in the past year. To be humorous, Norwegians may be very happy that so few of them emigrated to the US in the past year.
But this evening I am marking one year since I was introduced by Kenneth Kearon as priest-in-charge of the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes.
The service of introduction took place in Holy Trinity Church a year ago this evening, on 20 January 2017, and the preacher was Archbishop John Neill.
Since then, it has been an eventful year, working through the full cycle of life, with Baptisms, Confirmations and Funerals – and, hopefully this summer, a wedding too.
On my first Sunday morning, I got lost on my way to my first service, in Castletown Church near Pallaskenry. But I think I am now beginning to find my way.
I never thought I was going to find myself in a parish like this in this part of Ireland. I have very few, and very thin, distant family links with Limerick, and in the past it was either a county to pass through on the way to other parts of Ireland, or a venue for rugby matches at Thomond Park.
If you asked me two years ago where I though I was going to be at the beginning of 2018, I would probably have guessed a parish in England, or retired to a quiet place in Ireland, offering myself for Sunday duty in parishes I know and love or in sunny places in the Mediterranean.
But I have been blessed in these past 12 months in this group pf parishes, stretching across west Limerick and north Kerry.
There has been the usual Sunday rota of church services, and I have now worked through a full year in the Church Calendar. There have been pastoral visits, hospital and nursing home chaplaincy, school assemblies and boards, charity committees, and a new take on church synods, committees and meetings. There have been moments of deep sadness, including a number of funerals in the past week, but there have been moments too of great joy.
I have been blessed too in my opportunities to engage in Ministerial Education and training in the diocese. I continued my academic work until last year’s MTh students were conferred with their degrees in Trinity College Dublin. This new role is a different way of engaging with the application of theology, organising in-service training days, providing liturgical and preaching resources in the diocese, and bringing clergy and readers together.
I have been blessed in a new role as the Canon-Precentor in the three cathedrals in this corner of the Church of Ireland. The chapter is now meeting regularly, arranging to visit each other’s churches and parishes, and enjoying each other’s company.
And I have been blessed in finding myself in a corner of Ireland I never knew before. There have been new towns, rivers and beaches to explore, new walks, new places to photograph. Most of all, there have been new people to meet, new friends to make.
As I head into a second year in these parishes and this united diocese, I am also blessed by what the Benedictines know as stability, celebrating the Eucharist in one parish with one people on a week-by-week basis, and by what George Herbert recognised in the ordinary, daily and weekly round of the country parson among his people, recognising the cycle and rhythm of life as a sacramental sign of the breath and pulse of God.
Patrick Comerford
Donald Trump may be marking one year in the White House today, although gridlock on Capitol Hill means there is no joy in the White House on this day. Indeed, the world may be fretting at how so much has changed in the past year. To be humorous, Norwegians may be very happy that so few of them emigrated to the US in the past year.
But this evening I am marking one year since I was introduced by Kenneth Kearon as priest-in-charge of the Rathkeale and Kilnaughtin Group of Parishes.
The service of introduction took place in Holy Trinity Church a year ago this evening, on 20 January 2017, and the preacher was Archbishop John Neill.
Since then, it has been an eventful year, working through the full cycle of life, with Baptisms, Confirmations and Funerals – and, hopefully this summer, a wedding too.
On my first Sunday morning, I got lost on my way to my first service, in Castletown Church near Pallaskenry. But I think I am now beginning to find my way.
I never thought I was going to find myself in a parish like this in this part of Ireland. I have very few, and very thin, distant family links with Limerick, and in the past it was either a county to pass through on the way to other parts of Ireland, or a venue for rugby matches at Thomond Park.
If you asked me two years ago where I though I was going to be at the beginning of 2018, I would probably have guessed a parish in England, or retired to a quiet place in Ireland, offering myself for Sunday duty in parishes I know and love or in sunny places in the Mediterranean.
But I have been blessed in these past 12 months in this group pf parishes, stretching across west Limerick and north Kerry.
There has been the usual Sunday rota of church services, and I have now worked through a full year in the Church Calendar. There have been pastoral visits, hospital and nursing home chaplaincy, school assemblies and boards, charity committees, and a new take on church synods, committees and meetings. There have been moments of deep sadness, including a number of funerals in the past week, but there have been moments too of great joy.
I have been blessed too in my opportunities to engage in Ministerial Education and training in the diocese. I continued my academic work until last year’s MTh students were conferred with their degrees in Trinity College Dublin. This new role is a different way of engaging with the application of theology, organising in-service training days, providing liturgical and preaching resources in the diocese, and bringing clergy and readers together.
I have been blessed in a new role as the Canon-Precentor in the three cathedrals in this corner of the Church of Ireland. The chapter is now meeting regularly, arranging to visit each other’s churches and parishes, and enjoying each other’s company.
And I have been blessed in finding myself in a corner of Ireland I never knew before. There have been new towns, rivers and beaches to explore, new walks, new places to photograph. Most of all, there have been new people to meet, new friends to make.
As I head into a second year in these parishes and this united diocese, I am also blessed by what the Benedictines know as stability, celebrating the Eucharist in one parish with one people on a week-by-week basis, and by what George Herbert recognised in the ordinary, daily and weekly round of the country parson among his people, recognising the cycle and rhythm of life as a sacramental sign of the breath and pulse of God.
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