Listening to Grandma Kirby
A reproduction of The Angelus by Jean-François Millet (1814-1875) used to hang in Grandma Kirby's dining room, just above the sideboard on which she kept the telephone . . . the only telephone in the house. As a small boy I used to question Grandma about the picture. Who were these people? And what were they doing? And why were they in the field? And why were they praying? Grandma would explain to me that this was a scene familiar to her from her childhood in County Leitrim, Ireland. The farmer and his wife were in the field harvesting potatoes. From the church visible on the horizon, as from her own Gowel Chapel in Leitrim, the tower bell would be rung three times a day to call the faithful to the prayer of the Angelus. This is, she would say, exactly as it was in Ireland. When the Angelus bell would ring, all would stop what they were doing, wherever they happened to be, and recite the familiar prayers. Grandma Kirby (née Margaret Mary Gilbride 1900-1993) was raised in poverty, but with all the richness of a Catholic culture. Her descendants are being raised in material comfort, but with the terrible poverty of soul that comes from the demise of Catholic culture.
The Heritage
Grandma Kirby belonged to a people who rose before dawn for Holy Mass -- in Latin, with a Communion fast from midnight. She received Holy Communion daily, making her way to Holy Mass often while it was still dark and in all kinds of weather; this she did until her legs would no longer carry her to the parish church. She belonged to a people sustained by their attachment to the Blessed Mother of God and to her rosary. She knew the mystery of the Sacred Heart of Jesus: the image of Suffering Love that held a place of honour in every Irish home. She knew her faith: the Gospels, the Commandments, the Precepts of the Church, the Seven Capital Sins, the Gifts and Fruits of the Holy Spirit, the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy, and all the rest! She belonged to a people who made their way often to a dark confessional, there to pour out their misery, their failings, and their sorrow to a man in whom they recognized the merciful Christ, and from whose mouth they received the miracle of absolution and of peace. All of this she bequeathed to her six sons, to her grandchildren, and great-grand children, and great-great-grandchildren. Grandpa Kirby, for his part, set the example of a man who believed and practiced his faith, praying the rosary each day before leaving for his job, participating in monthly Nocturnal Adoration, in the Legion of Mary, the Holy Name Society, and in the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine. My own Dad walks resolutely in the footsteps of his dear father and mother. But something went very wrong.
And the Italians
On the Italian side of the family, the faith was also passed on. The Italian Catholic culture was very different from that of the Irish. It was nonethless deeply rooted and passionately cherished. The Onoratelli ancestors had their private chapel built in honour of Saint Michael the Archangel, and counted numerous priests among their sons; the Biondi ancestors, simple contadini, practiced the faith with the robust piety of people living close to the earth. My Barbato, Onoratelli, Martino, and Biondi great-grandparents emigrated to America, poor in this world's goods, but holding fast to an incomparable spiritual treasure. Even the economic and cultural struggles inherent in adaptation to life in America did not extinguish the flame of the Catholic faith. They transmitted the flame and trusted that it would be kept burning in the hearts of their descendants. But something went very wrong.
Why am I writing this? I am haunted by the antiphon sung at Lauds on Monday: "When the Son of Man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?" (Luke 18:8) With immense sadness in my heart I see that in two generations, the Catholic faith that sustained generation upon generation of my ancestors, the Catholic faith received on both sides, the Irish and the Italian, well over a thousand years ago is being forgotten, lost, and in some instances, consciously rejected. The beginnings of this spiritual tragedy coincided with the huge debacle of the Second Vatican Council. The Second Vatican Council was announced and begun in a climate of hope and joyful anticipation. Forty-five years later, the good fruits of the Council are exceedingly meagre; its bitter fruits have caused many to become disillusioned with The Vineyard and to forsake it.
Let me sing for my beloved
a love song concerning his vineyard:
My beloved had a vineyard
on a very fertile hill.
He digged it and cleared it of stones,
and planted it with choice vines;
he built a watchtower in the midst of it,
and hewed out a wine vat in it;
and he looked for it to yield grapes,
but it yielded wild grapes.
And now, O inhabitants of Jerusalem
and men of Judah,
judge, I pray you, between me
and my vineyard.
What more was there to do for my vineyard,
that I have not done in it?
When I looked for it to yield grapes,
why did it yield wild grapes?
And now I will tell you
what I will do to my vineyard.
I will remove its hedge,
and it shall be devoured;
I will break down its wall,
and it shall be trampled down.
I will make it a waste;
it shall not be pruned or hoed,
and briers and thorns shall grow up;
I will also command the clouds
that they rain no rain upon it. (Isaiah 5:1-6)
A Lost Generation
Those born into our family after 1960 have little real knowledge of the Catholic faith. Something -- or someone from below -- quenched the smouldering wick and broke the bruised reed. A spiritual void is a terrible thing; it is a gnawing emptiness, a craving for fulfillment, a hollowness giving room to hopelessness. Some have forsaken the splendour of Catholic truth for Protestant sects adept at exploiting Catholics ignorant of their faith. Others have fallen in with the all trendy New Age fascinations, grasping at the illusory hope held out by esoteric fables and, albeit unknowingly, opening their souls and their homes to pernicious infiltrations of darkness. Still others have become blatantly materialistic, content to pursue frenetically the things that death will oblige them to leave behind. Not a few have been poisoned by what has been called "the fashionable anti-Semitism of American liberals," the last acceptable prejudice of the enlightened: anti-Catholicism.
Deprived of Their Spiritual Patrimony
I think of my nephews and nieces, deprived of the Catholic faith and Catholic culture that is their rightful inheritance, and I weep. Had our ancestors bequeathed them a huge sum of money, there would have been much ado about it. Solicitous folks from all sides would have seen to it that the patrimony was passed on to its rightful heirs. Their spiritual inheritance, however, is dismissed as a thing of little value. And so the communion forged in centuries of fidelity to the Catholic faith has become a foreign thing and a matter of no consequence.
The Last Word to Joy
I admit that I haven't done all that I could have or should have to communicate the incomparable treasure and joy of the Catholic faith to my nieces and nephews. And I fear the just judgment of God who will hold me accountable for my culpable negligence. These are, you might say, gloomy thoughts two days before Christmas. Sobering, yes, but not gloomy. My deepest Christmas wish is that Christ's Mass may become for all of us, from the oldest to the smallest child, our greatest joy, a joy that the world cannot neither give us nor take from us. It remains, nonetheless, a joy that we can reject or refuse to pass on. I ask the sweet and ever-merciful Virgin Mother of Bethlehem to intercede for us all that Christ's Mass may be at the heart of our Christmas.
Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice; you will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy.
When a woman is in travail she has sorrow, because her hour has come; but when she is delivered of the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a child is born into the world.
So you have sorrow now, but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.
In that day you will ask nothing of me. Truly, truly, I say to you, if you ask anything of the Father, he will give it to you in my name.
Hitherto you have asked nothing in my name; ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full. (John 16:20-24)
Joy.
His Excellency, Bishop Edward J. Slattery of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Tulsa, Oklahoma has given
Father Mark a special mandate to live under the Rule of Saint Benedict in adoration before the Eucharistic Face of Jesus, offering thanksgiving, intercession, and reparation for all his
brothers in Holy Orders. In this way, Father is preparing the foundation of the new Diocesan Benedictine Monastery of Our Lady of the Cenacle. Father Mark is available to the
priests and deacons of the Diocese for spiritual and sacramental support in their pursuit of holiness. He is also charged with the spiritual formation of women who desire to dedicate themselves to spiritual motherhood in favour of priests.
Dear Father Mark, my grandparents had the same picture in the kitchen (central room of the house). They worked on land and with animals in a village in Croatia. I also was always intrigued by this beautiful picture, especially on cold days like these when everybody gathered together to do some work indoors (probably baking cakes and meat these days of the year). I'm sure my grandparents, who suffered great hardships in their life, especially during and after WWII are now praying for their descendants.
I'm sorry to read these things about your family and relatives.
+Dear friend,
My Irish grandparents also had this picture in their living room. In my own life as a child, we lived very close to the Catholic Church that rang the Angelus 3 times a day. I remember being with my mother and granparents and at the noon day Angelus, we would all stop what we were doing and pray the Angelus aloud together in the years.
I know that my ancestors are praying for all of us, but I do agree with you that my siblings, nieces and nephews find Catholicism and prayer foreign.
Wishing you a Christmas filled with the love of the Child.
Barbara (and Ed)
Exquisite picture, I've seen it at the Louvre and have a print of it
Fr. Mark,
I too look around my family and wonder what on earth happened. I am only 34 but can number the people in my extended family (all offspring of my grandparents and their siblings of - 18 siblings in total) and wonder if there are 20 who meet the bare minimum for counting as practicing their faith. All of my forbears came from Poland with a faith forged by foreign oppression. I too fear the just judgment I will receive because of my bad example or pusillanimity in witnessing to Christ.
I hope, however, and I try to focus on being a faithful disciple of Christ and His Holy Church, a good husband and father and know that the joy of being a follower of Christ will make people think twice about what might be lacking in their own lives.
Merry Christmas to you father.
David
Father Mark,
My Grandfather brought a family with 6 kids from Holland. He still prays the Angelus before every meal... in Dutch. He is 102 and studies scripture daily. Sadly, his model of faith was not followed by even half of the following generations.
I was born in 1963, and got lost in the turmoil of the post-conciliar Church. Now returned after a long absence, I pray for the members of my family that have not yet returned.
My prayer throughout Advent Vespers has been "Come, Lord Jesus, into the hearts of those who need you most this Christmas."
I'm glad I'm not the only one praying these intentions.
Gaude! Gaude!
Merry Christmas Father, and Peace to your little Monastery on the Prairie.
Dear Fr Kirby,
My first visit to Ireland was in 1961. I was 18 and in the US Army in Germany. I visited farmer friends in Headford, Galway. We were picking beet root growing in a small field when in the distance the bell tolled at noon. Everyone dropped to their knees and began the Angelus. I am now 66 and the image is still clearly planted on my mind. Their Faith, won thorough persecution was part of their culture. Every house had this picture, a picture of the Sacred Heart and St. Brigid's Cross over the inside door. A day never passed without family rosary. If we don't like the culture we live in we can change it. How about a few good pictures and kneeling nightly with our kids and grandkids for a family rosary. John Paul the Great told us "Be Not Afraid" he should have told us "Be not embarrassed..just do it".
Thank you for this, Father; wonderful to read!
(I also love Millet's Angelus. I have been reading a book about the farming folk from where my family are from in southwest Scotland, and wonder what their lives would have been like, before the Reformation.)
Not sure if I said, by the way, but thank you for your post (reposted) about Adoration at Home. Very sweet, very important; thank you again, Father.
Your comments about "someone from below" are very pertinent. Let's pray for a re-evangelisation (in the best senses of the word) in 2010: people need to reclaim their heritage, their roots. It's something I often say about, for example, Anglicanism: I truly feel so many Christians have been completely hoodwinked out of their patrimony, their own heritage.
Anyway, God bless you all at Our Lady of the Cenacle, and have a very Merry Christmas!
Mark
Dear Father,
I feel & share the discouragement deeply. It is only through the grace of GOD that I have any faith at all. I was born in 1966 and grew up in the "devastated vineyard" but for some reason I always had a very deep longing and desire for what the Holy Father calls the "hermeneutic of continuity". I so longed for continuity. Our parish church had been literally wrecked by an iconoclast priest. Statues of angels lovingly kept for years were found in the dump. I campaigned and prayed for years for the nightly rosary in my home to no avail. I also tried to introduce the angelus as a child but it didn't take. I'm 43 and and I look at the devastation within my own family. Marriages outside the church, contraception, little or no formation and apathy from my parents. I can only pray.
Thank you Fr Kirby, this is very dear to my heart. My family converted in the early 80's. Although we attended Catholic elementary and High school, we did not live a Catholic life. I reverted to the Church in my 20's after discontentment with the world left my only hope in God. God heard my cries and in His merciful abundance, He led me to the TLM. It was there I finally began to learn my Catholic faith.
One of my greatest concerns is now raising my children to know, love and serve God through holy Mother Church. I think too many children and adults for that matter, are being wooed away from the truth by a misuse of the truth. They hear the Word from a well meaning friend, neighbor or family member. These precious words are indeed sweeter than honey, and they long for more. So they follow the wolf in sheep's clothing to the local Bible study only to lose their Catholic faith.
Your beloved grandmother knew her Bible and the truths there in. Her knowledge of the Gospels, the Commandments, Fruits and Gifts of the Holy Spirit, Precepts of the Church and Works of Mercy, were made known under the protective guidance of Holy Mother Church. This is the knowledge I pray to impart to my children, so the Word spouted by non-Catholics is not an unfamiliar taste enticing them away from the truth.