Easter Joy, Easter Sadness

As night time falls
a crowd gathers
outside the Cathedral of Saint Réparate
in Nice
for the Easter Vigil Mass.
It’s almost time for Mass to begin
and yet, surprisingly,
the cathedral doors remain locked.

Uncertainty is in the air.

Armed soldiers arrive,
apparently to protect worshippers
from the threat of terrorist attack.

Now, fear is in the air.

At last
the cathedral doors open
and priests emerge.
The Paschal fire is lit
and the Easter Vigil Mass finally begins –
candles and song,
priests and procession,
light into darkness.

As we all enter the cathedral
fears of terrorist attacks
fade from our minds.
During Mass
fear is replaced by joy
as we listen to the Good News
of the Resurrection.
The cathedral fills with light
and with the clamour
of joyful church bells.

This joy lingers
as we all file out
when Mass ends.
And yet I find that my Easter joy
is tinged, this year,
with a sense of sadness
that when I celebrated Easter this year
in a European country
I experienced, to my surprise,
fear.

How sad is that?

© Claire Murray, 27th March 2016

Privilege

Uncle Billy’s brother, Paul, died.
I went to the funeral
and to my surprise
received Communion,
with a smile,
from Uncle Billy.
As I returned to my seat
I thought to myself,
“Isn’t that a lovely gift –
to be able to give out Communion
at the funeral of someone you love?”

As I continued to my seat
I remembered
that I, too, have a gift
that I have been given
by My God –
I can sing.
And I prayed,
“Lord,
You have given me the gift
of being able to sing.
Let me use it
for you.”

A few days later
I was asked, out of the blue,
to sing at a St Patrick’s night celebration
at Lámh Dhearg GAA club.
I began to practise a few songs.

And I began to pray.

I prayed
that My God might help me
to use the gift of singing
to bring joy to others.
And I prayed
that, on the night,
His will be done.

As it happens
this was a cross-community event
in which the parishioners of Hannahstown
were joined
by Church of Ireland parishioners
from St John’s in Stoneyford
for an evening of music, song
and céilidh dancing.

And at that event
My God gave to me
the gift of being able to sing
without fear.

As I sang
I had a sense
that this singing really was a partnership
between My God and me
and that, as I sang,
My God was holding me carefully
in His hand.
And I felt
that singing at this cross-community event
was a real privilege.

Thank you, Lord,
for the gift of singing
and for the gift this evening
of being able to use it
to bring joy to others.

© Claire Murray, 12th March 2016

Black Mountain

BlackMountain

My parish is Hannahstown,
on the slopes of Black Mountain.
It’s where I go
to pray and to sing.
It’s where I go
when I am in need
of inspiration
or consolation.
It’s where I go
in search of peace.

I face a challenge this weekend
and, as I walk into work,
I feel slightly anxious.

Approaching the road
I am just seconds too late
to cross at the traffic lights.
I have to wait a few minutes
until they change again.

While I wait
I turn to look behind me
and there I see Black Mountain
among the Belfast Hills
which stretch along behind the city,
looking peaceful and calm
as they bask in Spring sunshine.

Into my head pops
one of the songs
we sometimes sing at Mass,
“I lift up my eyes to the mountains
from where shall come my help …”

And I instantly know,
without a shadow of a doubt
that My God is with me
as I face this challenge
and that He will give me
all of the help that I need.

And as I cross the road
to go into work
my soul is at peace.

© Claire Murray, 10th March 2016