Opinion

Jarlath Kearney: Clonard Novena provides a relevant and uplifting message in today's world

Thousands of worshippers attend the Clonard novena every year. Picture Mal McCann.
Thousands of worshippers attend the Clonard novena every year. Picture Mal McCann. Thousands of worshippers attend the Clonard novena every year. Picture Mal McCann.

For 20 years our home barbecues in Antrim were furnished by slow-rusting, low-framed, fold-up deck chairs from 1979.

The white plastic arms were plastered with large stickers that read ‘B2’. That was the section at which our family sat in Drogheda during the visit of Pope John Paul II.

So when we gathered and broke bread around the barbecue, drinking wine (and then some), we were replicating the gift for which the chairs were initially used; the gift of communion and sharing, both socially and, by informal definition, spiritually.

Those old, creaky, mint and white striped chairs became a constant linkage back to an important part in our family history.

And not just the history of our immediate blood family, but the broader history of this island as a social family - with all of its spectacular peaks and scandalous gutters; the brutal heartaches and unforgivable hurts, sitting alongside heroic moments of unquestionable greatness.

Much is always made of the numbers who gathered for the Pope’s visit in 1979 - a million here, a million there. Likewise, focus falls on smaller numbers currently attending religious services or entering religious life, across every faith.

But is there not something strange and counter-intuitive in this kind of counting? How is it appropriate that we measure each other’s spiritual depth or moral commitment by using the materialist metrics of ‘numbers attending’ services or ‘numbers voting’ a certain way?

The soul and the spirit of people and communities cannot be measured like the profit or loss accounts of a bank or a business, nor the demographics or voting patterns of elections.

It’s understandable that falling numbers and clerical vocations are seen as indicators of falling participation in the formalities of institutional churches.

But the counter-balance in this ‘accountancy of attendance’ will emerge over the next nine days at Clonard monastery in Belfast during the annual Novena.

Thousands of people will descend upon the monastery because they feel unconditionally welcomed, with compassion and love and open acceptance.

Streets will be impassable. Old friendships renewed. Thoughtful prayers whispered. A sense of celebration rekindled. Each individual connecting personally to the unique core of their private spiritual needs and journey. Bread and wine, and stories and song, will be shared in communion.

Like many, I have criticised the formal Church in the past – with sincere motivation through personal experience. However in recent years I have often reflected how I had failed to live up to the very standards I was demanding of those whom I’d criticised. So my first job is actually to try getting myself in order (an endless task).

The methods we use to communicate with others can often be the greatest barrier to their understanding. Our communications – both social and spiritual – must therefore be relevant and relatable. We need to be able to speak our stories in ways that help others. This applies to institutions, not just individuals.

In the last year I have attended Mass a bit more often, mainly to recover a restorative place for myself where reflection in peacefulness is focused around community, yet whilst still nurturing the continuous independence of my thoughts and spirit.

As an altar boy for many years, I used to be able to rhyme off the Mass and I can still sing the Tantum Ergo. Nowadays, though, I don’t even understand some parts of the liturgy where the old words have been parsed beyond recognition.

But there are eight words in two separate sections of the Mass that resonate ever deeply these days.

The first is: ‘Lift up your hearts.’ What a wonderfully inspiring concept of hope about which to think during every day of life, especially the darkest times.

The second is: ‘Peace be with you.’ Where friends and strangers alike exchange open hands of love in a voluntary sign of unconditional goodwill.

As Clonard Novena starts today, hearts will be lifted and peace will be shared, as a broader social family gathers in communion once again. The Novena’s success will not be measured in the vast numbers, nor traditional formalities or institutional scaling.

The Novena’s true gift lies in the strengths of spirit that always unfold through the individual petitions of people whose broken lives mirror our own; where truly spiritual concepts of family can neither be dictated nor demanded around old social constructs of tradition.

Understanding the crushing imperfections of material life upon others can shine a pathway of perseverance that might just help us replenish our own humanity, dignity and spirituality.

Clonard Novena is relevant because it’s real. That’s why it means so much, to so many. It’s about us all. Family.