Drogheda, the town where I live, has many churches, both old and new. That means that during the day I hear a lot of bells! There is the chiming of the hours, the half hours, and yes, one of the bells, I think in the town centre, even chimes every 15 minutes. Then there are the chimes to remind people to go to Mass – rung about ten minutes before each ceremony, the bells of the Angelus at 12 noon and 6pm, and finally, the bells tolling slowly to tell people that there has just been a funeral, and that the hearse is on its way to the cemetery.
I will admit that there are times when all these bells just get too much, especially if I am trying to concentrate on something. But mostly I manage to ignore them. When I am in a particularly good mood, I welcome the bells as an invitation to continually be in the present moment. I am called to respond to God right here and now and not drift off into some idealised plan for future action. The bells are insistent. They are a constant reminder – life is happening now.
I think that is the reason so many religions use the chiming of a bell in their ceremonies and why so many religious houses still use bells as a call to prayer. Yes, of course, there is more modern technology. We could all receive Whatsapp messages, for example, or buzzers on our cell phones. But bells have never lost their appeal. When I was in upstate New York for a sabbatical programme with Dominican Sisters there was a windchime on the front porch. I loved it. The gentle tinkling was calming and relaxing. So today I want to be in a good space and welcome the bells.
Oops, 12 noon Angelus bells – time to go to lunch!
by Sr. Jo Anne Kelly MMM Ireland 05.01.2023
One night in Nigeria, as on many nights then, we had no electricity. Having had a busy day I had no time for private prayer. I took a chair to the garden, and sat down to pray, surrounded by the natural sounds of a tropical night. It was peaceful. I looked up. The sky was magnificent, a vast starry sky, with thousands of little twinkling lights bringing wonder and a real awareness of God’s presence into the dark night.
I wonder how the Magi felt when they saw the Star- so bright they were drawn to follow it.
Pope Francis says the Magi were wise and wealthy men. They could have remained content with what they already had and knew but they allowed themselves to be unsettled by a question and a sign- “Who is He who has been born for we have seen His star?”
They set out on their journey with the star lighting their way. They found the Infant Jesus in Bethlehem. We are told they returned home “a different way”. They were changed by their encounter with Jesus. They had found a new way of seeing and thinking.
Every day we listen to the troubles and suffering in our world. Many do not know the real meaning of Christmas – the coming of the One who brings hope, peace and love. The visit of the Magi from the East was evidence that Jesus came to save all people, all of us.
For many the world it is a very dark place. But even in the darkest night a star will shine. Can I be that star? Can I let myself be unsettled by the doubts, fears and questionings of others especially of our young people and be a star, a light, to help them on their journey through life?
I cannot change the world but I can make brighter the world of the person I encounter.
by Sr. Mary Casey MMM (1926-2014) Ireland 03.01.2023
Bring a torch if you come to visit us in Tanzania. You’ll need it if you go strolling at night, unless of course you don’t mind snakes.
Snake slaying is a skill I have not yet acquired. Strike hard, they tell you, with stone or stick presumably where you think his vital centres are. One day at language school, returning to my room after dark I saw one. Of course, I did the very thing I should not have done, I ran for help. The veterans say, “never take your eyes off a snake, shout for help”. We got back to where I saw the snake only in time to see him disappearing into a shore.
A Franciscan Missionary from Holland, Sr. Monique, responded to my alarmed reaction by relating another ‘snake story’. At a mission north of us, Brother Paul, who is also Dutch, took a keen interest in poultry. Sr. Monique brought him some turkey eggs. A most welcome gift, as a nice piece of roast turkey on Christmas Day can help considerably to promote the spiritual joy of the great feast, in a country where delicacies are not too plentiful. Two hens were given the task of hatching the precious eggs.
Brother Paul always looked in on his hens before retiring. One night he forgot his torch and in its absence he put his hand into the box. Immediately he sensed trouble. Yes, you have guessed. Still panting from the race to fetch the torch, in horror his breathing quickened. Flashing the light, he saw a large reptile, a dead hen, and no sign of the eggs. Now, if you think that was the end of the turkey-to-be, you are wrong. Brother Paul thought fast, and quick action on his part saved the day. The thief must not be allowed to escape so on the box went a heavy lid. In a twinkle he was back from the hospital, armed with a vial of Ethyl Chloride. For those who do not know, Ethyl Chloride is an anaesthetic vapour, contained in a glass vial and used as a spray.
Now something everybody knows is that an anaesthetic should never be administered on a full stomach and for obvious reasons. The rule holds for snakes too. The likely effect of the drug was just the one needed here. On with the spray! No sooner had the “patient” gone under when vomiting commenced and one…two…three…until not an egg remained inside. Another hen bravely took on the task which her ill-fated sister began. Shortly afterwards, to the great delight and surprise of all at the Mission, nine beautiful turkey chicks saw the light of day.
And the snake? Well, he didn’t recover from the anaesthetic.
First published in 1981, MMM Magazine
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 01.01.2023
Of all the months of the year, January probably has the least popular reputation. December offers us the joy of Christmas and the fun of the New Year with all the celebration, rich food, friends and families gathering from far and wide. Right after it, January appears as a sobering reminder of the excess of eating, drinking and spending too much.
Without fail, January starts and people list resolutions which statistically won’t last until Valentine’s day.
In some parts of the world, January can be a dreary and cold time and in some parts of the world it is not. It is in most culture’s though it is the start of the calendar New Year. It is a month that symbolises beginnings and new starts.
So how can we get the most out of January? When we look around and see where is the joy in January?
After many years of trying to understand human nature better, I can actually see that the thing that helps most people is to get out of thinking mode and get into action mode. People need to actually take action steps to feel better. No matter how much we think about improving our life we will not get a benefit until we actually do something.
Joy comes in experiences and often the sadness of January requires us to face new choices. Mindfully strolling into January with a focus can help us find joy and also spread joy.
For many years I have wanted to write a novel but I kept saying “I don’t have the time.” So I realised that the novel was not going to write itself. I took two important steps: I joined a writer’s group and I started getting up earlier to write before my usual daily tasks began.
Believe it or not, pages started to turn into chapters.
I really wanted to get fit but I was struggling to do so. I went to the doctor and found out I had things wrong with me that were delaying my progress. I realised I needed to move more and eat less of certain foods and more of others. I know you are thinking, you didn’t need a doctor to tell you that! I did know it but I was not DOING IT. I increased my daily steps, stopped eating food that hurt my progress and I started to see a major difference as days turned to month.
So, joy is created in ordinary habits. The ones we create and the ones we allow. If we want to see joy in our life then we need to accept our ability to create it.
Let’s keep things moving! We are launching our MMM Steps for Hope charity walk that invites you to increase your steps during Lent. If you want more movement in your life and to raise money for a good cause, please think about joining us. The link with more information is here:
For weeks, our daily newspaper has been filled with full page advertisements about how to have the perfect Christmas – food-wise, drink-wise, gift-wise; provided of course that we could afford to do so. We have been bombarded with so many symbols of the sacred season, it is little wonder that we become confused. The symbol of the crib, with all its mystery, was often overshadowed by flashing lights and blaring music.
Now we move on and are just about to face into a brand-new year. What is our symbol for a new year?
Nature provides its own symbols – the newly-formed buds already on the trees; the brave green shoots piercing the dark earth; the birds continuing to sing and embrace the new day, the new year. The ever so gradual lengthening of daylight.
I think our symbol is hope.
The hope that our fractured, fragile world will awaken more fully to the need to seek for lasting peace in all places and between all peoples. The hope that we can deepen our understanding of just how precious is the gift of life in all its forms. It is to be cherished, to be protected, to be healed. The hope that the horrors of wars can recede and cease. The hope that each of us can carry that hope deep in our hearts, knowing that the Light of the World, who came to us at Christmas, will be with us at each moment of this so far uncluttered and brand-new year.
by Ann Marie Hook, AMMM U.S.A. 28.12.2022
You may have seen bread recipes that boast “No Knead.” There are many of these recipes on the internet and YouTube; and entire cookbooks are dedicated to this “fast and easy” method of making yeast dough. I must admit I like “fast and easy.” I can make enough bread dough for four loaves in five minutes. Refrigerated, the dough will last two weeks and is ready to be transformed into warm bread whenever desired. This method is perfect for our fast-paced, hectic lifestyle. So, is there a “need to knead anymore?”
Recently, I had to wonder why I decided to use the traditional “Kneading Method” when I had “a million other things to do.” Whatever the reason, I pulled out the flour, yeast, and salt and got to work. However, when I turned the slightly sticky dough out onto the floured board and put my hands onto the dough, gently pushing, folding, and turning it, I began to understand. I no longer felt rushed. I felt calm and peaceful. I looked out the window and saw the beauty of the leafless trees silhouetted against the cloudy sky. It looked like it might snow.
My mind was transported back about forty-five years to the days when I made all my family’s bread. I thought of Christmases when our children were young, trips to the mountains to cut the Christmas tree, and then decorating it on December fifteenth, Daddy’s birthday. The excitement continued to mount in our household over the next ten days with our baking cookies and Gramma making her famous eggnog. I remembered with gratitude the neighbours who helped us assemble three little bikes after the “tiny angels” fell asleep on Christmas Eve.
Without consciously thinking about what I was doing, the dough became smooth and elastic. The kneading was complete. Yes, this is exactly what I “needed” to do – slow down, and appreciate the beauty of a winter’s day, the excitement of Christmas through a child’s eye, and the generosity of neighbours. I still have the “need to knead.”
By Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM U.S.A. 26.12.2022
It was a very cold snowy morning at 5:30 AM when my parents, sister, two brothers and I got into the car to visit my grandparents in Florida. How would we make the journey in two days? How could we be there on Sunday, Christmas Day when we left on Friday morning? At that time there were no interstate highways, just a two-lane road, maybe three in some areas called US 1.
These were the questions going through my mind as we left New York City. We passed over the George Washington Bridge and headed for the New Jersey Turnpike that had just recently been built. At that time the speed limit, I was told, was 90 mph. That did not last long as it was often foggy, and many accidents occurred. However, we were soon making a lot of progress and loved looking at the scenery, not having been outside the NY- NJ area before.
That evening, we stopped in a motel, having travelled over 600 miles. Having dinner in a restaurant was a great treat. In the morning, Mom ran the bathtub tap to get the water hot enough to make tea. We also had cereal, milk, and bananas for breakfast. Lunch was by a road stop which provided picnic benches where we could sit down and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I was mesmerized by the hanging moss trees in Georgia.
Another night came and we stayed in a motel in northern Florida. Dad said we just had another 250 miles to go to arrive at his parents’ home in West Palm Beach. Christmas morning arrived and I am sure we went to Mass but all I remember of that day is that the car would not go except in reverse. My father got under the car with a wrench and did some loud knocking of the gears. Finally, the car was in working order and we were off to Grandma’s. It was not always easy to find a Church but my parents inquired at the restaurant where the nearest Church was and my father was told 36 miles back or 42 miles toward and he chose to go forward.
We also had some of my mother’s cousins living in that area of Florida, so we stopped to see Cousin Bill Twomey. He was very glad to see us. When he heard I was entering MMM in March he wanted me to meet a woman he knew who just left the convent after 25 years. I declined saying I wanted to try it to see if I belonged there.
We all rejoiced to see Grandma and Papa Meyer. They were glad to see us too and made us feel so welcomed and at home. The next day, we decided to go swimming in the Atlantic Ocean. The water was 72 degrees and felt very warm. We all had a great time, marveling that we could be able to swim in Florida when New York was so cold. All the houses were of pastel shades, and I saw no trees but those of palm. I do not know if this were a temptation, but I felt very sad that I would not see a maple or an oak tree in Africa. Some years later when I saw the Flame of the Forest and Jacaranda trees in Africa, I remembered this and how Jesus always gives the more when one thinks one will miss something very much.
My mother’s brother, Uncle Frank Twomey, lived in Miami, and we all got a chance to visit with him too. He told us about a place near where he lived called Africa USA. We drove in a jeep and all the animals were in fields where we passed by. It was very exciting to see them.
The holiday soon came to an end, and it was time to return to New York and to complete my high school studies before entering MMM in March 1956. My Father wanted me to see a little bit of the world before entering in case I was confined to life in one place. That has not been my experience but rather MMM has been a very exciting adventure in faith.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 24.12.2022
When I was a small child, I was not allowed to go to Midnight Mass. That was only for the grown-ups. In those days, Midnight Mass meant midnight, not 8pm or 9pm the way it is now. But Christmas night was still special. There was a kind of waiting silence in the air, a kind of holy magic.
On Christmas Eve at midday, a red candle was lit, placed in an earthenware jar because we had no candlesticks. The candle was then carried into the front room and carefully placed on the windowsill and every year the same explanation was given. “This is the candle to show Mary and Joseph that they are welcome into our house so that Jesus can be born”. Sometimes I found myself staring out into the street to see if they were coming yet! This candle stayed lit until 12noon on Christmas Day. My brothers and sisters told me that of course my parents blew out the candle before they went to bed. It would have been too great a fire risk! But in my imagination, there it was, a solitary flame blazing out a welcome.
As an adult now I wonder where did this tradition arise? I have not met anyone else who had this as a family tradition, but when I think about it now, it is a good example of a “domestic church”. If religion means anything it has to be integrated into the fabric of daily living. “Sunday only” religion will not carry us very far. I think of the old Irish custom of making the sign of the cross on the top of a loaf of bread before it is baked in the oven. That is asking for a blessing.
Did we have all the usual “commercial” side of Christmas? Yes, of course, within my parents limited means. As a younger sibling, my belief in Santa was scoffed at early on, but Christmas presents were still enjoyed. I remember being a great reader and often asking for books.
I suppose my desire for Christmas this year is to return to the stillness, the magic of waiting, of expectation and then the burst of joy on Christmas morning. It doesn’t demand much of me, just an openness and patience. Welcome, Joseph and Mary, I am here waiting for you.
by Sr. Jo Anne Kelly MMM Ireland 22.12.2022
It was the day of the Christmas Craft Fair, in the afternoon. I had a visit from a young family, parents and two young teenagers. It was delightful visit.
The boy had a very interesting question. Here in Beechgrove we are a community of fifty-three Sisters. He asked, “It is not possible to like all of them, is it?” Well, he certainly didn’t think so! And he is right. I am not expected to like everybody, but I am called to love them. The question set my mind thinking about the difference between liking and loving. Loving expects that I am accepting of others, as they are. It calls me to be kind, thoughtful, forgiving and so many other ways of wishing them well. That does not come easily. As any parent knows, loving can be costly and demand some sacrifice.
As we enjoyed tea, homemade scones and big cupcakes and chocolate bought from the Fair, the conversation turned to concerns coming from the Synod. The fact is that many no longer go to Mass and many people think that watching Mass on the website is enough. This also set me thinking.
Right now, we are in the time of preparing for Christmas. We are preparing to celebrate the birth of Christ into the world. I asked myself “Why did Jesus come on earth in the first place? Why did He come?” I believe that He came to show us how to live. He gave us a model of how to live as loving people, peaceful people. And look at the people He associated with – the poor, the suffering, the outcasts of society, the sinners, the foreigners. All those who were different in any way. I am challenged every day to be like Him, to live and die like Him.
The Mass is important in our lives as it commemorates Jesus dying for us to show us how to live and love. At the Last Supper he said: “Do this in memory of me”. When I understand what is happening, I want to be there, in communion with Him and with the whole congregation.
As I packed up the two remaining cupcakes for the big boys at home, there were stories of long sermons and heads nodding, trying to keep awake. As I waved the family off home, I set myself the task of reading the Gospel more, of getting to know Jesus better and to live as He showed us, living and loving.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 20.12.2022
As adults it would be easy to get away from the joy of Christmas. The over commercialisation of gift giving and the shops playing music and selling decorations in November can be annoying too. It appears as if there needs to be a lot more “Christ” in Christmas!
When I look back on my thoughts about growing up in Ireland at Christmas time what stands out to me is not all the years of presents but an experience that filled me with great joy.
I was a child who struggled to read at an early age. Some very caring teachers realised that my issues were needing glasses to read at a distance and also a learning disability known as dyslexia. The remedies were glasses and remedial reading lessons with a lovely and devoted special education teacher named Emily Nevin.
I was so fortunate because although I was horrified at being singled out to leave class a few times a week, something magical was happening. I was able to read. It turned a fire on in my that has burned ever since. Being able to read well was new to me and I had always been terrified that a teacher might call on me and I would be unable to do it. That fear and humiliation stayed with me for a long time.
I changed schools in sixth class going over to the Secondary school I intended to attend. I was in a new place and fortunately my best friend was with me but in another class. No one knew about my early years of stumbling and being unable to read and then going to “special classes” during the week.
I was really enjoying my Speech and Drama course in my new school. One child from each year was being selected to do a reading at the Annual Christmas Carol service was shocked when the teacher recommended that I should do the reading for my year! I could not believe it. I was so nervous but also excited to be able to do it.
The reason I was willing to try was because the reading I was doing was my favourite. Luke 2 announcing the good news that a baby was to be born.
“An Angel of the Lord appeared to them , and the glory of God shone around them and they were filled with fear. But the Angel said to them “Do not be afraid. I bring you great news that will cause great joy for all people…”
I read the entire Gospel until 2:16.
Reading the passage aloud at the podium with a microphone, my 11 year old voice filled the whole church with confidence and clarity I was so alive. I felt myself rise up to the occasion overcome with joy myself at the very words, by past struggles and labels behind me. Comforted and reassurance has come to me many time in my life as I remind myself of this precious moment. As I become anxious or upset I remind myself “Be not afraid. I bring you great news…”
I have made a career of bringing great news to people about love and encouraging them to see beyond their fears to the joys that’s possible.
Drogheda, the town where I live, has many churches, both old and new. That means that during the day I hear a lot of bells! There is the chiming of the hours, the half hours, and yes, one of the bells, I think in the town centre, even chimes every 15 minutes. Then there are the chimes to remind people to go to Mass – rung about ten minutes before each ceremony, the bells of the Angelus at 12 noon and 6pm, and finally, the bells tolling slowly to tell people that there has just been a funeral, and that the hearse is on its way to the cemetery.
One night in Nigeria, as on many nights then, we had no electricity. Having had a busy day I had no time for private prayer. I took a chair to the garden, and sat down to pray, surrounded by the natural sounds of a tropical night. It was peaceful. I looked up. The sky was magnificent, a vast starry sky, with thousands of little twinkling lights bringing wonder and a real awareness of God’s presence into the dark night.
Bring a torch if you come to visit us in Tanzania. You’ll need it if you go strolling at night, unless of course you don’t mind snakes.
Of all the months of the year, January probably has the least popular reputation. December offers us the joy of Christmas and the fun of the New Year with all the celebration, rich food, friends and families gathering from far and wide. Right after it, January appears as a sobering reminder of the excess of eating, drinking and spending too much.
For weeks, our daily newspaper has been filled with full page advertisements about how to have the perfect Christmas – food-wise, drink-wise, gift-wise; provided of course that we could afford to do so. We have been bombarded with so many symbols of the sacred season, it is little wonder that we become confused. The symbol of the crib, with all its mystery, was often overshadowed by flashing lights and blaring music.
You may have seen bread recipes that boast “No Knead.” There are many of these recipes on the internet and YouTube; and entire cookbooks are dedicated to this “fast and easy” method of making yeast dough. I must admit I like “fast and easy.” I can make enough bread dough for four loaves in five minutes. Refrigerated, the dough will last two weeks and is ready to be transformed into warm bread whenever desired. This method is perfect for our fast-paced, hectic lifestyle. So, is there a “need to knead anymore?”
It was a very cold snowy morning at 5:30 AM when my parents, sister, two brothers and I got into the car to visit my grandparents in Florida. How would we make the journey in two days? How could we be there on Sunday, Christmas Day when we left on Friday morning? At that time there were no interstate highways, just a two-lane road, maybe three in some areas called US 1.
When I was a small child, I was not allowed to go to Midnight Mass. That was only for the grown-ups. In those days, Midnight Mass meant midnight, not 8pm or 9pm the way it is now. But Christmas night was still special. There was a kind of waiting silence in the air, a kind of holy magic.
It was the day of the Christmas Craft Fair, in the afternoon. I had a visit from a young family, parents and two young teenagers. It was delightful visit.
As adults it would be easy to get away from the joy of Christmas. The over commercialisation of gift giving and the shops playing music and selling decorations in November can be annoying too. It appears as if there needs to be a lot more “Christ” in Christmas!