Pray for us now and at the hour of our death

I am thankful to have a number of friends who are involved in some really great things that enrich my own life and the lives of others. One of these friends is Gareth Higgins, co-facilitator of "The Film Talk" and executive director of the Wild Goose Festival.


In fall of 2011 I was privileged receive an invitation from Gareth to be present with a number of other ministry workers and faith leaders to contribute our voices to the planning process for next year's Wild Goose Festival. (Note: when I say I was "privileged" to be there what I mean is that I have no idea how I got invited to hang out with such an awesome group of fellow ministers and faith leaders).

At any rate, at the end of our discussion (which was wonderfully facilitated by Gareth and by Brian Ammons), Gareth shared the following poem and I wanted to share it with you. 

(Note: if you're like me (i.e. American) you may not know what "Hurling" is. You'll want to learn about it here before reading this poem.)

The 12 O’Clock Mass, Roundstone, County Galway, 28 July 2002

On Sunday 28th of July 2002 –
The summer it rained almost every day –
In rain we strolled down the road
To the church on the hill overlooking the sea.
I had been told to expect “a fast Mass”.
Twenty minutes. A piece of information
Which disconcerted me.

Out onto the altar hurried
A short, plump priest in late middle age
With a horn of silver hair,
In green chasuble billowing
Like a poncho or a caftan over
White surplice and a pair
Of Reeboks – mammoth trainers.

He whizzed along,
Saying the readings himself as well as the Gospel;
Yet he spoke with conviction and with clarity;
His every action an action
Of what looked like effortless concentration;
Like Tiger Woods on top of his form.
His brief homily concluded with a solemn request.

To the congregation he gravely announced:
“I want each of you to pray for a special intention,
A very special intention.
I want each of you – in the sanctity of your souls –
To pray that, in the All-Ireland
Championship hurling quarter-final this afternoon in Croke Park,
Clare will beat Galway.”

The congregation splashed into laughter
And the church became a place of effortless prayer.
He whizzed through the Consecration
As if the Consecration was something
That occurs at every moment of the day and night;
As if betrayal and the overcoming of betrayal
Were an every-minute occurrence.

As if the Consecration were the “now”
In the “now” of the Hail Mary prayer:
“Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.”
At the Sign of the Peace he again went sombre
As he instructed the congregation:
“I want each of you to turn around and say to each other:
‘You are beautiful.’”

The congregation was flabbergasted, but everyone fluttered
And swung around and uttered that extraordinary phrase:
“You are beautiful.”
I shook hands with at least five strangers,
Two men and three women, to each of them saying:
“You are beautiful.” And they to me:
“You are beautiful.”

At the end of Mass, exactly twenty-one minutes,
The priest advised: “Go now and enjoy yourselves
For that is what God made you to do –
To go out there and enjoy yourselves
And to pray that, in the All-Ireland
Championship hurling quarter-final between Clare and Galway
In Croke Park, Clare will win.”

After Mass, the rain had drained away
Into a tide of sunlight on which we sailed out
To St Macdara’s Island and dipped our sails –
Both of us smiling, radiant sinners.
In a game of pure delight, Clare beat Galway by one point:
Clare 1 goal and 17 points, Galway 19 points.
“Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.”

by Paul Durcan (from The Art of Life) 

In my reading I was struck by the portion of this poem which mentions the "now" in the Hail Mary prayer. Although I have prayed this prayer hundreds of times I have never, until hearing this poem, reflected on the "immediacy" of this prayer - that every hour of life, every moment, can be a consecrated, holy moment. 

Though this poem evokes images of joy and laughter, it brought to my mind memories of suffering, turmoil and pain and it especially reminded me that, though often unacknowledged, God really is present in every aspect of life.

In my work with youth and now in my work as a chaplain intern in a hospital, I am always learning to see God in unexpected places. In this work, I have learned that whenever one person is truly "present" with another - vulnerable, listening, loving - God is also present there. It does not matter whether we evoke God's presence or even desire God to be there with us. God truly is "presence." God is "vulnerability." At least this is the God that I find in the Jesus story.


In my work I find more and more that true vulnerability is often thrust upon us when we experience suffering and death. Such moments remind me that God is not just the God of power and of resurrection. God is also the God of the crucifixion, the God of suffering. When we suffer with another we are saying, implicitly, "Your life - every part of it - is worthwhile." We are saying to that person, "you are beautiful."

This realization has been paradigm shifting for me in my ministry with youth -- I'm beginning to move way beyond creating programs and opportunities meant to "influence" youth toward simply being with youth and their families in the messiness of life. How have you experienced this in your own life and ministry?