Christopher Rehagen - Dublin alum

Hello everyone, my name is Christopher Rehagen, and I am a 2009 graduate of the University of Notre Dame and a Spring 2008 participant in the Dublin Program.  Currently, I am a second year seminarian studying for the priesthood for the Congregation of Holy Cross (the religious order that founded and continues to run Notre Dame).  As a second year seminarian, I am spending my year in Cascade, Colorado at the Holy Cross Novitiate.  I live in the shadow of Pikes Peak in one of the most beautiful areas of the country.

The novitiate year is essentially an internship into religious life where one steps away from some of the distractions of daily life to focus on discerning God’s call.  It is a year of study, prayer, reflection and work.  Here at the Novitiate, my classmates and I take a break from regular access to internet, cell phones, and TV to focus more deeply on our relationship with God.  Fortunately, we do have some access to these things (usually on the weekends and Wednesday nights) or this blog entry wouldn’t be getting done!

As part of the Novitiate experience, my classmates and I don’t take formal classes but meet daily for conferences on topics such as the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience; the history and ministries of Holy Cross, human sexuality and so much more.  We also spend a good portion of our day in prayer and silence in addition to spending a period of three hours each day maintaining the Novitiate property. 

As part of the Novitiate experience, my classmates and I spend one day each week working as chaplains in a local Catholic Hospital.  Ministering to dying patients and their families is one of the most rewarding and hardest things I have ever had to do!  My classmates and I also minister in local parishes on Sunday.  For instance, I help with the RCIA program at one local parish.  I work with the candidates and catechumens in what is known as “Breaking Open the Word.”  Essentially, we meet as a group to discuss the readings of the day in order to dwell more deeply on the Word of God that we just heard at Mass.

Next July, if my classmates and I discern that God is calling us to the religious life, we will profess the temporary vows of poverty, chastity and obedience for a period of one year.  We will then return to the University of Notre Dame to study theology in preparation for the priesthood.  At the conclusion of each school year, we would then choose either to renew our vows of poverty, chastity and obedience for another year or leave the seminary.  After a period of three to six years in temporary vows, we can petition to make the vows permanent through the profession of final vows.  At around the same time, we would likely be ordained to the diaconate.  The following year we would then be ordained to the priesthood.  It’s quite a process, but one that I’m quite comfortable with as I need the time and experience to grow in my relationship with God and make sure that God is indeed calling me to religious life.

Since this blog is about the Dublin Program, I thought it would be nice if I said a few words about my experience with the program and how it impacted my decision to enter the seminary following graduation.  Somewhat surprisingly, considering how much seemed to be going on while I was in Dublin, my time in Dublin was one of great spiritual growth for me.  I really enjoyed the Tuesday night Mass followed by the trips to Eddie Rocket’s.  I also enjoyed attending daily Mass at the parish in Blackrock (I lived at the dorms in Blackrock during my time abroad).  I attended the 10:00 AM daily Mass, which usually had around fifty people in the congregation.  I would venture to guess that 49 were over the age of sixty.  Despite this, I grew to love the Mass there.  I loved how the Irish people always made me feel welcome.  I didn’t know them well, but they still greeted me with a smile when I arrived.  I also was impressed by how the Irish people prayed for the dead in every single Mass I attended.  Their belief in the Resurrection was something I envied and learned from.

Most importantly, my time in Dublin helped me realize how important my faith was to me.  For the first time in my life, it wasn’t all that easy to attend Mass or set aside time to pray.  It wasn’t like at Notre Dame where Mass is being celebrated at seemingly all hours of the day.  And yet, I still had a deep desire to attend Mass and stay in the Church for a few minutes after Mass to sneak in a few prayers or pray the Rosary with the men and women of the parish.  It wasn’t always easy to roll out of bed after a long night the night before, but it was worth it.  In Dublin, I felt God in my life in a special way, and I will always be thankful for it.

As an aside, I want to thank Kevin for asking me to write an entry for the blog.  I can’t tell you how many old memories I recalled as I wrote this entry.  It made me remember just how much I loved my time in Dublin; how much I loved the Irish people and culture, the pubs and the museums, the chance to travel throughout both Ireland and Europe, and most importantly, the people I met, both from Notre Dame and from around the world.  It was a great experience and one I would do again in a heartbeat.  

Peace,

Christopher   

Rugby Match: Ireland Versus New Zealand, Aviva Stadium , Saturday, 5.30pm

Game at 5.30pm: meet at O’Connell House at 4.15 sharp.

Dress code: Dress as warmly as possible: It could be cold! Layer up! Gloves! Coats! More layers! If you have a hat, scarf or cap, wear it..

Background. The current Irish rugby team is considered to be the best we have ever had. It won the Grand Slam - defeating all five countries it normally plays each year- for the first time since 1949. Brian O’Driscoll at 13, the Irish captain, is widely regarded as the greatest ever Irish rugby player. Other stars include the workhorse No 8 Jimmy Heaslip,  the up-and-coming No. 10 Johnny Sexton from Rathmines, the No 12 Goron Darcy,  a Wexfordman and current UCD student, and the free running Full Back - No. 15 Rob Kearney. The No. 10, Jonathan Sexton is a celebrated kicker - the No 10 or Outhalf position is like being ‘a quarterback with a boot’. Another young Irish player Cian [pronounced Keen] Healy is a recent grad. of my sons’ school, Belvedere.

The current New Zealand team are uinversally regarded as the best team in the world. The match tomorrow stars some of the finest players ever to step on a rugby pitch- notably their No. 7 Richie McCaw, their teak tough 13 Mai’a Nonu, and their prodigiously gifted No 10 Dan Carter. There is huge interest in the game, and we are lucky to get tickets for it.

The New Zealand pre-match ritual the Haka is  justifiably considered the most famous – and brilliant - of pre-match rituals. It is an old Maori war dance complete with throat slitting and crotch-holding gestures which leave opponents in very little doubt that there is a tough time coming their way soon.

Rugby for Dummies By BILL RAYBURN [An American!!!][OK -I added some more detail too!!! [KW]

Most American know at least one very specific fact about rugby: We don't want to play it. But for the moment, move past the visceral fear of a cranial collision with another human, and you will gain an understanding of this ancient sport. Peter Winder writes, "Rugby provides a suitable outlet for the controlled release of any frustration or aggression within the structured framework of sport."

And legalized mayhem it is. There are no pads or helmets worn in rugby, and the collisions are often brutal collisions, of a high speed nature. Size is an advantage, but not as much as one might think. A quicker, smaller player can be invaluable. Injuries are accepted  as part of the game. One is expected to play on even if hurt if at all possible. Clearly rugby is a sport for the lion, not the faint-hearted.

The terminology and jargon is revealing: scrum, ruck, maul, hooker. It sounds rough and it is, although there is much more to it, and modern rugby is a highly sophisticated tactical game. Here are the basics:

The game involves 15 players per side. The 15 positions include 8 forwards [numbered 1-8], a scrumhalf [9], an out half [10] halfbacks, 2 centers [12-13], 2 wings- [11 & 14], and 1 fullback [15].

The field, called a "pitch," is much wider and longer than an American football pitch.

The object of the game is to score as many points as possible by carrying, passing or kicking a leather oval ball, about twice the size of a football, toward the scoring zone at the far end of the pitch called the in-goal area, akin to an end zone in football. Grounding the ball (literally touching it to the turf with downward pressure of the hands or hand in the in-goal area) results in a try (score), worth 5 points. Tries are the big momentum switchers in a game.

A conversion attempt follows, a kick off the ground from 25 yards out but exactly parallel with where the try was scored - that puts a lot more pressure on the kicker than in American football, as many tries are scored out wide to the touchline. If the ball is kicked through the uprights, 2 more points are awarded. The ball is then kicked back to the other team from the half way line and play resumes.

Points may also be scored from a drop kick during play - no easy feat with 30 guys swarming around - or a penalty kick, which is awarded after breaches of rules are spied by the single referee. Yes, believe it or not, there is only one referee on the field to monitor the actions of 30 players. If the drop or penalty kick is successful, it is worth 3 points.

Here are some basic rugby rules that might raise more questions than answers:

There are no "downs," as in football, nor is a "first down" required to maintain possession. In fact, possession can be exchanged often and quickly and turn-overs are frequent. There are few long, sustained "drives" toward the in-goal area- although the All-Blacks [guess why they are called that?] are masters at retaining possession, especially through their groundhog Richie McCaw who is unbelievably proficient at turning over opposition ball when it goes to the deck. Progress up and down the field is achieved grudgingly, usually in short chunks.

The ball may not be passed forward from the hands, though it may be kicked forward. Players cannot be tackled unless they possess the ball. Once in possession of the coveted leather oval, one is fair game, dead meat, or an endangered species. Rugby supporters like nothing better than a big hit on an opposing player.

Once the player is tackled to the ground, he is expected to release the ball. A common penalty is for ‘not releasing’ - ‘holding on to the ball after the tackle’ - usually for fear that the opposition will win it.

[The South African Number 7 Richie McCaw, is a famous exponent of winning the ball on the ground from a tackled player]. Players need to reach their teammate very quickly once he is tackled and drive the opposing players back off the ball. This contest, called a ruck, is where the dark arts of the game are most fiercely practiced. Players wear cups to protect their vital assets and eye-gouging and ear biting are not unknown - hence the leather scrumcaps that some wear. The ferocity of the ruck is almost primal, and the primary means of retaining and winning possession. “Turn-over Ball’- where you win possession in a ruck after the opposition carried the ball into in - is highly prized, and often supplies the most dangerous attacking opportunities. The All-Balcks are deadly when they get quick ball. You are not allowed to play the ball with your hands once you are on the ground, but you can if you are still on your feet. Players are not allowed to enter the ruck from the side - only from behind the last foot of the players in it.

A maul is the same as a ruck, except that all the players grappling for the ball are still on the feet. A ‘Rolling Maul’ is one where the team with the ball are advancing rapidly - the current Irish team are expert exponents of this tactic. The opposition is not allowed to deliberately pull down a rolling maul.

Play stops only when there is an infringement, or the ball is kicked out of bounds, or when a try is scored.

When the ball goes out over the sideline, a line-out results, where the opposing players line up perpendicular to the sideline and jump for the ball as it is thrown back in play (similar to a jump ball in basketball). The players are allowed to hoist a teammate high into the air to better reach the ball. The throw in to the lineout is by a player from the team who didn’t kick it out. The throw is meant to be straight but a clever thrower will always advantage his own team. Teams would expect to gain possession on their own throw. Usually a really tall player knocks the ball back with his hand to the small light agile scrumhalf, who then initiates the attacking plays.

Penalties, which range from tackling too high [no clothes lining] to being offsides (a player further downfield than the ball) can result in either a free kick for the other team or a scrum.

What, exactly, is a "scrum"? Each team's 8 forwards [the big burly bruisers on the team] link arms over their shoulders on opposite curves of a circle, like a huge round centipede at cannibalistic war with itself.

After the forwards are locked together, the No 9 - (Scrumhalf) - carefully rolls the ball into the center of the scrum: again it is meant  to be straight but it is 99% crooked so the team with the Put In to the scrum should always win it. Once in the scrum, the ball cannot be touched by hand. Each team has a "hooker" in the front of the scrum, a player positioned forward of his teammates, who tries to hook his foot around the ball and drag it behind him, where his teammates then caterpillar it with their feet until it squirts out the back of the scrum. Then the scrumhalf picks it up and initiates play. The scrumhalf is always the smallest, quickest and usually craftiest player. He is a major playmaker as he has to decide whether to run, kick or pass. At  times too, a team may elect to gain ground by pushing the opposition backwards in the scrum.

The game consists of two 40-minute halves, with a brief half-time break. There are no time-outs, save for an injury. Tactical substitutions are allowed, usually occurring after about 60 minutes when you need fresh impetus.

is maith an scéalaí an aimsir

Time is a great storyteller.

            I wish, then, that time could tell the story of the weekend trip to Northern Ireland for me, because capturing the intensity of all that I saw, heard, and felt over the course of those three days is going to be difficult.

Before my visit to Northern Ireland, my knowledge of its history and its politics was minimal. I knew that it rests within the realm of the United Kingdom because I had to exchange my euro for pounds, and I was vaguely aware of the bombings carried out by the Irish Republican Army (IRA). After listening to Professor Whelan lecture over the bus microphone for the entirety of the two-hour drive to Belfast last Friday morning, I gained a fairly solid understanding of the events leading up to the violence that swept through the region while my parents rocked out to Donny Osmond and the Jackson 5 back in the United States. The Irish Free State (present-day Republic of Ireland) emerged after the Irish War of Independence between Ireland and Britain from 1919 to 1921. The six counties of Northern Ireland, populated by Protestants, remained under the jurisdiction of the United Kingdom as they are today. The partition caused the Irish Catholics living in Northern Ireland to feel dispossessed by both their fellow Irishmen and the British government that treated them as marginal citizens. The tensions swelled over the years until the late 1960s when young Catholics, inspired by the Civil Rights Movement in the United States, began to protest their own lack of political and social rights.

Our first stop in Belfast was the new Ulster Museum, where the curator guided us through a new exhibit of gray, black, and white exhibit of walls, words, and video. The exhibit documented the years of violence the protests that began in 1968, the years known in Ireland as the Troubles. The Troubles lingered into the 1990s. Since the history is so recent and so fresh in the hearts of the citizens of Belfast, the exhibit faced a challenge of documenting the events without bias and with great emotional sensitivity. The bleak welcome to Belfast provided us with a perspective from which we would view the rest of our weekend. The tea and scones that followed the exhibit lifted our spirits and gave us the energy to withstand an intense encounter with a Sinn Féin representative at Stormont.

As we drove through the gates of Stormont, the bus filled with the oohs and aahs of the girls who found similarities between the majestic landscape surrounding Stormont and the scenery in Pride and Prejudice. Stormont (pictured below) is the home of the Northern Ireland Assembly, the Parliamentary body of the region. The building only reopened in 2007 after years of devolvement. Since then the Assembly has provided an outstanding example of inefficiency, passing only 36 laws in three years. The United States passes an average of three hundred bills per year. Much of the inefficiency rests on the system of shared power between the First Minister and the deputy First Minister. The two ministers must agree on a ruling before it can be passed, but the ministers represent opposing parties – parties that represent the factions that fought during the years of the troubles. The First Minister stands for the Democratic Unionist Party, the conservative party that wishes to remain a part of the United Kingdom, while the deputy First Minister represents the radical Irish nationalist party Sinn Féin. If the combination of leaders was not inefficient enough for Stormont, then the voting process certainly seals the deal. The process reminds me of an icebreaker game we played with the fifth-graders at the camp where I worked last summer. When voting on a bill, the representatives in the Assembly cast their votes not by ballot but by yelling “aye” or “no.” The yelling game rarely results in a decision. The next step is to ring a bell that can be heard all around the building. At the sound of the bell, all the representatives have three minutes to get to the assembly room and file into a corner. The side with the most people in it wins the vote.

While we were in Stormont we had the opportunity to participate in a question-and-answer session with the Sinn Féin advisor of the deputy First Minister. The discussion became more than heated when our dear professor began to ask accusatory questions regarding Sinn Féin’s violent past. The Sinn Féin representative became so agitated that we were all squirming uncomfortably in our chairs, ready to run if he stood up and started yelling. We learned later that Professor Whelan intentionally argued with him in order to get him to divulge more about the politics of Northern Ireland. We calmed him down with some less provocative questions about policy and language. At the end of the session, Professor Whelan thanked him graciously and, as a token of our gratitude, presented him with the Kelly green Notre Dame football t-shirt that boasts the slogan “We are the Fighting Irish.”

After our visit to Stormont we drove through Belfast, past the most-bombed building in the world (the Europa Hotel), and onward toward the coast of the Irish Sea at Portrush in County Londonderry. There we stopped for a sunset and a delicious meal. The picture to the right is the sun setting over my friend Dan Strittmatter and the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. We spent the night in the village of Ballintoy, population 160. I do believe we met the majority of that population when we walked into the local pub and found that they were celebrating Paddy’s 75^th birthday. We danced and sang along as an older gentleman stood at the front of the pub playing covers of Johnny Cash, Elvis, and John Denver on his guitar. Shortly thereafter we stepped out into the crisp country night air to take a walk down to the harbor with Professor Whelan. The night was the kind of beautiful that makes you miss somebody. The stars were so clear that each time I blinked I could see even more of them. In that moment the concept of time seemed foreign; I have no idea how long we laid on the grass sharing conversation and song. No picture could possibly have done the night justice – if I could have bottled it up and mailed it to you, I would have done so in a heartbeat. Once we returned to the hostel, we were still so happy for the beautiful night that my roommates and I stayed up far too late giggling like fifth graders at a slumber party. Professor Whelan’s catchphrase is true: “the tiredness goes away, but the memories last forever.”

We were lucky to wake to a crisp, sunny Saturday morning on the day of our excursion to the Giant’s Causeway. The trail that led from the parking lot (“car park” in Ireland) to the Causeway also happens to be a coastal marathon route, and the race just happened to be that particular Saturday morning. After successfully dodging and then cheering on some runners we made it to the end of the trail. The scenery was breathtaking – from one side we could see hills and glittering sunshine, and, on another, the coast of Scotland. Professor Whelan seized the opportunity to share his infinite wisdom and gave a talk so inspiring that I was completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the nature and the people that surrounded me. He spoke of hundreds of years of people coming to the shore and wondering about the expanse of the sea and the height of the sky. He reminded us that we were all thinking of the ones we love at home and how important it is to take these experiences and use them to share with those who couldn’t be with us. And ten years from now, he said, when we look at a picture of the Giant’s Causeway, we’re going to think of all of the people who were with us while we were there. 

We slept our way to Derry after the hike. The historic town is called Derry (its original name) by those of Irish Catholic heritage and Londonderry by the British. The picture at the very top of this letter is the view from the walled part of the city looking into Donegal. We had been invited to attend a lecture by Seamus Deane about the influential theater company Field Day. I am under the firm conviction that Mr. Deane never sleeps. Not only has he published numerous books, taught at Notre Dame, founded Notre Dame’s Irish Studies program, and co-founded and co-produced every play presented by Field Day productions, but he also edited the Penguin editions of James Joyce’s novels, which can be a lifetime of work in itself. After the lecture we went to a reception with Mr. Deane and actor Stephen Rea (most recognized for his role as Detective in V for Vendetta). Both of the men interacted with Professor Whelan as if they were the best of friends; I do believe that Professor Whelan knows just about everybody in Ireland. We spoke extensively with Mr. Rea about the differences between acting on stage and acting in film. I was proud to say I’d met him when he appeared in the movie we watched the following week for my film studies course at UCD.

On Sunday morning we met Seamus Deane’s brother Eamonn for a tour of the Bogside in Derry. The name is deceptive; the bog has disappeared since the area of town was named. The Bogside is the Catholic section of Derry and the location of the Bloody Sunday massacre that started the real violence of the Troubles in 1972. A memorial to the innocent civilians who were killed listed thirteen names; two of those young men boasted the last name of McKinney. On a beautiful Sunday morning in 2010 imagining such a tragic incident seemed impossible until I saw those names and realized that I could have lost a brother, a father, a best friend. The political turmoil of the Troubles inspired Derry muralists to paint the edifices of houses with pictures of figures and events to preserve the memory of the civil rights struggle. Above I have pictured one of the most iconic murals in Derry. The gentleman in the brown sweater is Professor Whelan and the other man is Eamonn Deane. Mr. Deane took part in some of the protests and actually appears in one of the murals as part of a crowd. The city now enjoys peace, but the memorials serve as constant reminders of the violence that so recently affected the daily lives of the people living in Derry and in the Bogside.

After Mass in Derry we returned to Belfast for a similar tour of the neighborhoods that played a key role in the warfare of the Troubles. Despite all its grandiose architecture and green hills, Belfast remains scarred by years of violence. The Catholic section of town (Falls Road) and the Protestant section of town (Shankill Road) are separated by a structure of wall and fence tall enough to prevent even a star baseball pitcher from throwing a glass bottle over the top of it. The police force continues to block off certain roads when darkness falls. In the Catholic section we toured with one man who told us about growing up during the Troubles and spoke with another man who continues to fight for a united Ireland. Belfast also boasts murals of figures who took part in the fighting. My favorite mural depicted a group of old women in a kitchen with sandwiches and tea surrounded by soldiers; the painting is a token of remembrance for the women who aided in the struggle. The other side of the wall at Shankill Road was actually very scary. There were no murals of sweet old women; instead, the murals portrayed gangsters, barrels of guns, and bloody scenes of destruction. We were happy to leave that section of town. As we departed Belfast we distributed two more Fighting Irish t-shirts to our friends. As much as I love Notre Dame, I would never, ever wear that shirt in Belfast.

I embarked on the trip to Northern Ireland with little knowledge of its history and returned feeling almost as if I had experienced the Troubles with the men who shared their stories. I thought it would be difficult to verbalize my experience, but I can’t even imagine the courage it took for the men and women who lived through the Troubles to speak about those years. Time has built up their story all around them – in memorials, in murals, in people, in walls, in churches, and in inefficient political systems. Although they are now at peace, I hope that time will bring them just as much peace of heart and mind as it has brought peace to the streets of Northern Ireland.

            Receiving the history of Northern Ireland in firsthand accounts was incredible, but when I look back on the weekend my favorite parts were talking under the stars, giggling until the wee hours of the morning, experiencing the glory of creation, and discovering more about the friends I have made through the Notre Dame program while we shared all of these experiences together. I am surrounded by a truly wonderful group of people. I hope that when ten years pass and I look at pictures of Ireland I will think of these friends not just as pieces of memories but as friends to call any time for a meaningful conversation. I am grateful at least that we have two years left together at Notre Dame…but as for the future, time will tell.

beannacht leat go bhfeicfidh mé aris thú,

Meghan McKinney

Top Ten Best and Worst Irish ballads

The Best

1. 'She moved through the fair', an exquisite love song, with words by Padraic Colum to an old Irish air.

2 'Galway Girl' by Steve Earle. This is one of the very few recent songs which touched an Irish vein.

3. 'I’ll tell me Ma', a catchy Belfast children’s song, rescued by David Hammond which has re-entered the mainstream.

4. 'The Croppy Boy' - the old version, not the maudlin nineteenth-century one. A piercingly haunting emotionally taut song about 1798.

5. 'Raglan Road', a poignant Dublin poem of love lost and won by Patrick Kavanagh. Luke Kelly’s singing of it is the finest ever recorded version of an Irish song.

6. 'Lisdoonvarna' by Christy Moore. A catchy, witty, verbally dextrous modern ballad securely anchored within the Irish tradition of songs of place.

7. 'Whiskey in the jar'- the rollicking ballad that has been mangled in a million bars, but still a rambunctious rollicking rafter-rousing song. Check out the version by Thin Lizzy.

8. 'Song for Ireland' by Scottish folk singer Phil Colclough. Mary Black’s version: written in 1982, this is a modern classic. A little po-faced, but still a worthy effort.

9. 'Only Her Rivers Run Free', written by Mickie McConnell in 1965, the song catches the alienation of the northern Catholics just on the eve of the troubles. Christy Moore does the iconic version.

10. 'Bonny Lighthorseman'. If you want to see where the tradition derived from, listen to this Napoleonic song in the brilliant version by Dolores Keane.

The Worst

1. 'Fields of Athenry'. Enough already.

2. 'Ireland’s call'. Ditto.

3. 'Danny Boy'.

4. 'Irish Lullaby'. Bing Crosby’s Crime against Humanity.

5. 'The Rose Of Tralee'.

6. 'The Rose of Mooncoin': set in Kilkenny- no more needs to be said.

7. 'Delaney’s Donkey'. Let’s hope it’s extinct.

8. 'Paddy McGinty’s goat'. Ditto.

9. 'The wild rover'. Over-exposed.

10. Anything by the Wolfe Tones.

Reflection

By Liz Larkin

Elizabeth Langdon was not a traditional woman. Don’t get me wrong, she was born into loving and supportive family, named after her mother and grandmother. She worked her way through her education, found gainful employment, was married, and started a family of her own. But when she was widowed with three young children, she opted to continue her job, becoming a single working mother in 1955. And when her children were grown, starting families of their own, she became Grammy, and she became a pillar in the lives of her grandchildren.

She taught me to play tic-tac-toe, and more specifically, she taught me how to beat my older brother at tic-tac-toe. She taught me how to knit and sew. She taught me to appreciate reading and literature. She taught me to be curious. She taught me how to play cards. And I guarantee that every time I play poker, I think of her. She worked until she was nearly 70 and continued part-time beyond that, living independently in the community she’d settled in years before. And when she passed away, it was as she had lived her whole life, on her own terms.

Grammy was my idle, my mentor, and I was her namesake. I felt an obligation to uphold the service she’d done by carrying the name with pride, with dignity, with unerring confidence and strength. Her passing was one of the first losses I experienced. I handled it much as I assume other soon-to-be high school seniors do: with all the dignity and bravado of someone who knew absolutely everything about life… Which, retrospectively, was actually rather little.

I struggled with the loss. It hurt in the summer when we would normally visit her. It hurt at Christmas, on her birthday, on my birthday, and at Thanksgiving. And for the longest time, I could not move beyond the empty feeling, the void left when she was physically no longer there. I coveted the small trinkets she’d given me, more because I knew she’d never give me any more than because they held specific meaning. I was sad. And I mourned. And I feared that if I let go of the sadness that she would be gone. And that I would forget her. That she would be somehow lost.

And then I was visiting my cousin. And we played tic-tac-toe… That was the first time I recognised how much she had given me. How much of what she had done was enduring. How much of her was in me. And slowly, I found a way to celebrate who she was that didn’t make me sad. That wasn’t a sense of loss but a sense of peace.

My views on life and death are constantly in flux. At work, I’m surrounded by people struggling to live and struggling to die. I pronounce death about once a week. I’ve watched people struggle to cope with end-stage disease and terminal diagnoses, and I’ve told people that they are dying. And there is no such thing as death becoming easy. The dead move on, and it feels that we are often left to pick up the pieces when they’ve gone. To quote tv’s bleeding heart doctor, “dying is easy, living is hard.”

We mourn all the time. We mourn loss of time. We mourn changes in relationships. We mourn changes in the places we live, in the people we know, in the seasons, and in the world around us. It. Is. Difficult. To celebrate someone’s life rather than mourn their death. It is a process. It grows from within those who have lost, when we feel compelled to share the gift that this person has brought us through their life. It grows from joy. Sadness and happiness are fleeting emotions. Joy is a way of living. Joy is sharing what is good in our lives with those around us. Joy is what draws us together in community, and that shared joy is what we miss when someone has passed on. They bring light to our lives and they help us shine in ways we could not on our own.

I initially planned to talk about autumn and leaves changing being a beautiful process when it’s really the death of the tree for the winter with re-birth in the spring… But that’s been done. And frankly with the weather we’ve been having and the potential dampness looming this weekend, I’m not sure leaves falling are what’s most concerning. Life and death surround us, they shape us, they carve away our weakness and leave us with what makes us strong. And our relatives, our friends, our family, our neighbours, our teachers, our community that have passed before us have stoked the fires of our inner strength. And that light is something we have to share.

“People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within.” Grammy was a rock. She helped me shine. And I wanted to share some of that with all of you. And as we say this mass, in remembrance of all those who have passed before us, I would like to know some of the people that have touched your lives, that have illuminated you from within. So maybe, at dinner, we can share a little piece of our rocks with each other. And if anyone wants to play some tic-tac-toe… I’m game.

Ten non-Irish films shot in Ireland

1. Braveheart

Following this Mel Gibson blockbuster, the Scottish tourism industry got a massive shot in the arm. The battle scenes were filmed in Ireland at the Curragh, and Bective Abbey and Trim Castle, County Meath.

2 Hellboy 2

There is a great set piece at the end of Guillermo Del Toro’s 2008 film set on the cliffs overlooking the Giants Causeway.

3. Saving Private Ryan

The gripping opening twenty-minute sequence was filmed on Ballinesker Beach, Curracloe Strand, County Wexford. 


4. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

A dramatic scene has Harry Potter and Dumbeldore battling with evil, as the camera swoops in towards the Cliffs of Moher, County Clare.

5.The Princess Bride

This 1987 fairy tale concerns heroes who rescue a beautiful princess. They are trailed across the sea by a sinister masked man, and up the Cliffs of Moher. The cast including Mandy Patinki and Billy Crystal.



6. The Italian Job

This 1969 classic (not the inferior 2003 remake), starring mini cars and a young Michael Caine, had all its jail scenes filmed in Kilmainham Jail in Dublin.

7. King Arthur

This 2004 version was mostly filmed in County Wicklow. The movie starred Clive Owen and Keira Knightley.


8. Barry Lyndon

This beautifully shot 1975 Stanley Kubrick film based on a Thackeray novel concerns an Irish picaresque rogue. Irish locations include Huntington Castle, County Carlow, Cahir Castle in Tipperary and Kells County Meath. Some of the most ravishing photography ever taken of a lush and verdant Irish countryside.

9. The Spy Who Came in from the Cold

Based on a John le Carré novel, this spy movie starred Richard Burton and is set in Berlin. It was actually filmed in Dublin.

10. The Tudors

Jonathan Rhys Meyers trashy TV series is shot entirely in Ireland.

Hi from Ethiopia!

by Mary Clare 

Mary Clare is an alum of our Dublin Programme and is currently working with 'A Glimmer of Hope' in Ethiopia. Read her story...

November 4, 2010 

 
As you probably know, I've been living here in Addis Ababa since the end of August. In many ways, my world has been turned upside down. The water and power go out regularly, every time I sit down for a meal I worry about getting sick, and living among the poorest of the world's poor is a startling daily reality. Life in Africa can be physically challenging and
emotionally draining. But more importantly than any of that, my life now has more purpose and meaning than it ever did before. Working for A Glimmer of Hope has given me the opportunity to witness villages and communities being completely transformed; it has allowed me to ­very literally ­ help save lives. One project at a time, one village at a time, Glimmer is helping some of the world's poorest and most forgotten people really lift themselves out of poverty. And I'm blessed to be a part of it.
 
Out of all of the villages in which Glimmer works, one in particular has stolen my heart. I want to tell you about it and about the birthday wish that I hope will help to change its reality.

Ethiopia is the small village of Dube Bute. The beauty of the area is matched only by the beautiful spirit of the people who live there. But life is harder than anything imaginable back at home. Dube Bute, despite its beauty, is a place plagued by extreme rural poverty. It is a community that I first heard about from my friend Emily. Emily's son Eyasu was born in Dube Bute and the harsh reality of life in that part of the country led Eyasu to the verge of death, eventually forcing his uncle to give him to a local government orphanage. By the grace of God, Eyasu was adopted by the Alexander family and is now a healthy young boy living in Arlington. But the reality of his first home has not changed. It is still a place of extreme poverty. And now, the Alexanders are on a mission to change the reality of life in Dube Bute, and I want to help them. But first, I want to explain
just how bad that reality is.
 
Over 700 children attend school 7 mudblock classrooms. They sit huddled elbow to elbow, often using their knees as desks, squinting in the dark because their classrooms have no electricity.
 
The people of Dube Bute currently receive medical attention in a 2 room health post. I have been in this health post multiple times. It is empty. I mean completely empty. No tables, no chairs, no medical equipment, no medicine. Empty. Essentially, a local health care worker stands in a barren room where she can attempt to diagnose any ailment that might arise, but she has no way to treat it.
 
Because they live in such a rural community, the people of Dube Bute very literally depend on their livestock for their survival. Horses, cows, goats, chickens ­ they are all a very vital part of life. But there is no veterinary service available in case of disease. If a family's cow gets sick and cannot be treated, they could lose their very livelihood in the matter
of a week. 

And perhaps most disturbing of all the many terrible aspects of life in Dube Bute is the lack of clean water. Water ­ for drinking, bathing, washing clothes ­ comes from one of two sources. There is the dirty, stagnant water sitting in two open wells in the center of town. Or there is the muddy water coming from an unprotected spring at which animals also drink. Both sources produce brown water. Both sources lead to disease. And both sources are
frequented by the people of Dube Bute as their only source of available water. I have stood in the mud at the spring, collecting water with the women of the community as tears filled my eyes. It is the most heartbreaking thing I have ever witnessed. 
 
But all of this can change. And YOU can help. A Glimmer of Hope, in partnership with a local, Ethiopian implementing partner have done all of the groundwork necessary to create a plan to completely change life in Dube Bute. This integrated community development program will provide 8 brand new fully furnished classrooms; a brand new, fully equipped health center; the first ever veterinary clinic in the community; and 18 water points, which will provide clean, safe water to the people of Dube Bute. Can you even imagine how transformative it will all be? The Alexander family is on a mission to make sure the $284,000 necessary for completion is raised as quickly as possible so that construction can begin. And this year, for my 23rd birthday, I want to help them!

 So what can you do?  I'm asking everybody I know to donate money in multiples of 23 to my birthday campaign for Dube Bute. $23, $46, $230, $345 (23x15), $2,300. Whatever you can give, is very much appreciated. Today is November 4th, one month before my birthday on December 4th. Just think, if you set aside $1.53 each day for the next month, you'll have $46 by my birthday. That¹s pretty easy, right? You can also help by forwarding this email to friends and family that you think might be willing to help. Every bit makes a difference, and each dollar helps to change lives. The more people involved, the better.
 
Now here's the really cool part (as if saving lives wasn't cool enough). Thanks to A Glimmer of Hope's 100% promise, every single cent raised is going to go directly to the implementation of these projects in Dube Bute. Even the PayPal transaction fee is covered by Glimmer¹s endowment, which means that you can rest assured that every penny you give is going directly to Dube Bute. Not only that, but because I will continue to go to Dube Bute throughout the process of construction, I will be sending out updates on progress with photos and videos. Pretty cool, huh? You can actually follow the progress of the projects that YOU help to fund and you will get to see the faces of the people whose lives YOU are changing.
 
I'm here on the ground, and I'm doing my very best to help. But I need your help. Please come with me on this journey. Remember, this isn't a birthday present for me, it¹s a life-saving, life-changing gift to people I love in a community that desperately needs help.  
 
To donate, please go to:
http://ourglimmerofhope.org/campaign/23rd-birthday-dube-bute
(The target goal of $5000 is a minimum for this campaign, I¹m hoping to
raise much more than that!)
 
For more information on Dube Bute, including photos and video, please visit
my blog at: www.austintoaddis.wordpress.com
<http://www.austintoaddis.wordpress.com>
 
Thank you so much! I appreciate all of your help more than you can possibly
know. 
 
 
With lots of love from Ethiopia,
Mary Clare