We Await the Dawn

April 4, 2008 - Friday

This week, much like the past several months, has been very difficult for my husband and me. The little store we have, a small ecumenical religious shop, is on its last legs--humanly speaking. From a human perspective, the store is a business failure. From a ministerial perspective, the store has been a blessing, and countless people have told me so. We began this store just 2 years ago, and our approach, believing we were hearing and following God’s lead, was "Failure is NOT an option!" Both Joe and I thought about that today, and he brought it up at lunch. Is it a "failure?" At this point I expect we will have to close our little shop this month. I will mourn it because of the good people I will not see again. Yes, we will keep in touch with some, but most we will not see again. But is it a failure? If it is, it is only financially. The good people who came to our little store to shop for family and friends, to give gifts to express their love and share their faith made our shop a blessed success! If it is God’s Will that we close now, to try to save our home, then, AMEN. We are behind in many bills. We spent the Winter without heat in our home, and this week the electric company turned off our service at the store, leaving me sitting there in total darkness. I prayed with the psalmist: "even darkness is not dark for You, and the night is as clear as the day, for it was You Who created me and formed me in my mother’s womb." And yet, I was angry! I quickly realized it was NOT the electric company with whom I was angry. That was a just debt. I was angry with the Roman Catholic pastor who went out of his way to kick the shovel out of our hands! I was angry at the Roman Catholic priest who slandered my husband Joe, saying that he was impersonating a priest!!! Geez, even by Roman Catholic canon law Joe IS a priest FOREVER. How does one impersonate oneself? The fact is, Joe is a Celtic Christian priest, a bishop, serving in the Celtic Christian Church. If he had converted to the Episcopal Church this self-righteous pastor would not have DARED to say such things about Joe and his public ministry any more than he would publicly insult the FEMALE priests who serve in the Episcopal Churches in this area! This was not just innocent ignorance on the part of this Roman Catholic pastor--it was a deliberate vengeful attempt to destroy a 76 year old man’s livelihood! See how these Christians do not love one another! Our store being a religious shop, we depend almost entirely upon advertising. The logical place to advertise has been in the local Church bulletins. When this Roman Catholic pastor saw our ad in his church bulletin, he called the local RC priests and told them to get our ad out of their parish bulletins. Most ignored him. Many sent parishioners to our shop!! One can only guess most of them have his number, and just ignore him. However, he and the local pastor both removed our weekly ads, and put a mortal dent in our business, by not allowing local Roman Catholics to know we are here, a dent that has brought us to this point in time--the point of closing our doors and local ministry, or continuing to wait for a miracle. Joe and I have great Faith--but we will not tempt God! I am not a particularly good person. I pray every day for this nasty priest, and beg the Holy Spirit to touch his heart before he dies--which will be soon. I have been privy to stories that are far nastier than this, where he has deeply hurt others. Indeed, Joe has picked up more than his share of the pieces of wounded persons that this priest has left in his wake! But I’m not a particularly good person because I sat in the darkened store angrier than I have been in a very, very long time. If it were not for Jesus Christ cramping my style, I would destroy this priest. Yeah, the street kid in me was ready to rumble. How easy it would be to destroy him. Then that scripture comes drifting through my mind...what profit to gain the world and lose my soul? By allowing myself not to love him--not to pray for his soul, but to go out of my way to harm him I would destroy my own soul! Well, Jesus, when You put it that way, You leave me little choice...(mumbling to self) God is God. I will do no harm. However, I will speak the truth of what I have experienced as bigotry toward us, especially toward Joe as a former Roman Catholic priest--now a Celtic Christian priest. Sustained and deliberate bigotry and slander intended to harm him, us--and primarily from Roman Catholic priests, and holier-than-thou religious whose gross ignorance of Church (i.e. CHRISTIAN) history is so extensive as to leave an echo in their heads when they hear the facts of history spoken, explained. OH, pardon me, you’ve never heard of "OLD CATHOLICS?" NO, it doesn’t mean we’re Roman Catholics nearing 99 yrs of age...!! No! Sorry! Old Catholic is a Church Body--as in part of the Body of Christ, just like those Episcopals, Lutherans, Methodists, and Presbyterians you pray with at those ecumenical services--the ones where the Old Catholics are not even given the kiss of peace. Yeah, Old Catholics, that denomination with valid apostolic succession and sacraments--unlike those you pray with (according to your own laws, that is). I will speak about the intentional bigotry of priests and religious who have great nerve pointing fingers at ANY other Church body in this day and age! Shame on you! We will continue to pick up the pieces of those whose spiritual lives you harm or destroy without giving it a second thought, the youth humiliated, and adults insulted by you. Oh Father, SHAME ON YOU! Shame on you for kicking the shovel out of an aging brother priest’s hands. I do pray the Holy Spirit touch your heart, turning a heart of stone to a heart of flesh. However, until then, what is done in the dark (of a cold dark heart) will be seen in the Light. At the end of the day, we await the Dawn. Christ is our Dawn. I pray you live to see the Dawn in this life, in the land of the living. That is the best I can do right now, just pray for you, and pray you stop hurting people. Yeah, I’m still angry, like a Mama Bear. "Don’t mess with my family" I want to roar. I guess I’ve done that here... I hope you folks NEVER meet this Roman Catholic pastor in question. Anyway, this has all come at the very time I’ve pulled together an Internet Talk Radio Show called: "The Independent Catholic." On the show we will discuss the various Independent Old Catholic Churches in the USA and other countries. We will bring on the bishops and members of these Churches and introduce them to our listeners. Many have suffered far more from powerful Church denominations and their clergy and hierarchy than we have from our petty clerical neighbor. All that will be made known. But more importantly, we will focus on the ministries and service done by so many--without the support and the public forum of mega-Church institutional structures. The Independent Catholic! You can tune in and listen, or call in and participate at: The first show will air on Monday night April 7th, at 11 PM US Eastern Time, and will be on each Monday thereafter. If you can’t listen that late, you will be able to download segments from our BlogRadio website or as podcasts from iTunes. OK, I’ve vented. I feel a lot better now. Now I will try to be a better person! Pray for me, please, cause it ain’t easy! Cait

We Stood Together for Peace

Today passed much like any other day for me. I went to work, opened the shop and talked with people who came in. Great people. Today was not different than most other days. Yet today was the 5th anniversary of the United States invading Iraq. I’ve never been really interested in politics. Never kept up with it, even when it was important to do so. I’m not proud of that part. It always seemed beyond my own scope, somehow. But these recent years are different. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Life becomes so valuable as one ages and watches the ones we love pass on to the next life. Faith gets us through that, if we are people of Faith. If not, I have no idea how people deal with the death of loved ones. Death has made me much more sensitive and appreciative of life. I value it now, more than ever. Part of that is coming to terms with death, and preparing for my own as much as possible, again in the context of my deep Faith that life changes but does not end. However, while we are here, it is precious, and no life is less precious than another. None. The horror of war is evil enough when unavoidable, but when it happens because of lies and greed it is difficult to wrap my mind around it. When businesses have more to say about our nation’s foreign policies than elected officials and the voters, and unelected officials ignore voters, and elected officials give the power of war away to a "king" as has happened, I find I can’t ignore national politics any longer, and must be aware, much more aware than ever. It’s become a moral imperative for me. Why? Well, today I read the current figure, 5 years into the war, that 3,990 of our military have been killed for this greed, obeying in sincerity the greedy who have gotten us into this disgraceful moment of history. I also read today that 1,189,000 + Iraqi civilians (that’s a million plus, folks) have been killed in this war. One in four Iraqis are homeless now, displaced is the term used. It’s far away. For those of us who have nobody in the military or working with the military there it might be easy to forget. For those with loved ones there it is impossible. How long, I wonder, will we fool ourselves about all the reasons for this war? When will the nation demand accountability from our government, and especially our president/king? When will we have the courage to face the fact that this all has been based upon one lie after another? I don’t know the answers. Tonight I witnessed a few neighbors standing together in the rain on the corner of Main Street, Stroudsburg, with candles in hand remembering the dead. Where were all the others?? Where were those who want the war to end now? Who want the troops home but not in body bags? Where were they? It was raining on us tonight. I guess the rain made people stay home because I’m sure they don’t want more death and more body bags. It must have been the rain. Next year, on that anniversary, I hope there are a few more with us to speak out to the king! There will be a much larger number of dead.

Barack Obama on Registering to Vote in PA

PA VOTERS...This is more than politics...this is about taking care of people in this country and around the world.

Obama Speech: 'A More Perfect Union'

I am very encouraged by this speech.

We give -- Buiachas Le Dia! Thanks to God!

Today I’m celebrating my feast day! The feast of St. Patrick.

He was the cause of the first serious argument, and act of rebellion I had as a youth with my mother. I was given a tremendous love of my Irish heritage and the Faith passed to me by my parents and grandmother grows deeper each day of my life. At the age of 12, however, I don’t think my mom realized how very serious I was about my religious choices.

In May it was normal for 6th graders in our school to be confirmed in the Faith. Looking back now, from this old age, I realize most kids that age don’t have a clue about what it truly means, and I’m grateful we gave our daughter Rose the choice to be confirmed or to wait when her turn arrived at a similar age. Although I believe Rose was a graced child, and was ready to make such a step, she herself decided to wait. Then during her college years, she was confirmed in Boston, in the middle of the worst scandals in US Church history! I admire that kind of Faith in Jesus!

When it was my turn, there were no choices given. We were trained, sometimes well, and ushered down the aisle to the bishop who gently smacked us upside the head and our faith was confirmed. Mine truly was. I too was a child of grace, gifted with a love I thought everyone had, presumed everyone had for God! God was my friend, my companion, my buddy, my God! Always together, never apart. Of course I longed to be confirmed. There was no thought of anything else.

The problem was not one of faith in our home, but one of tradition (not the big "T" Tradition, but the little human "t" tradition). What name to take? My father had taken Aloysius for his confirmation name (God only knows why). So, when my oldest brother was born, he was named after our father, then when his confirmation came around, he too took Aloysius--after our father. When my turn came, I, who had been named after my mother and Catherine of Siena, was expected to take my mother’s confirmation name, Mary.

My first battle was over the mother of God and St. Patrick! You know it’s a Catholic family with that kind of turmoil! I announced that I was taking Patricia for my name after St. Patrick, because I admired him (from having read his biography, and from hearing about him all my life from my beloved Irish grandmother). My mother was hurt. I never realized that she was more hurt than angry, until years later. But it came across as anger to me then, and I dug my heels of faith in and stood my ground. This was, after all to be my name forever into eternity! This was my choice to follow the steps of a particular saint. I wanted to be a saint, like Catherine of Siena, and now to follow in Patrick’s steps of sharing the good news of Jesus to others. That seemed like what we were told to do in religion class. The good sisters never mentioned taking our parents’ names, but the names of saints we admired. (uh, it must be made clear here that I admire Mary the mother of Jesus Christ...never let it be said otherwise, but I had this love for Patrick, or what I knew of him then.)

Anyway, my mother figured I’d obey her and take Mary, and didn’t know until I came back from the bishop, in profound tears of joy and love of God, that I’d indeed taken Patrick as my patron.

Years later, Rose made her choice in Boston, and was confirmed. We went to Boston to celebrate this day with her, and with her friends. I never thought to ask her what name she took if any (I’d heard some didn’t add names these days). As we were walking to the restaurant after the ceremony I asked if she took a name. She said yes. What was it? She looked at me and said "Patricia!"

Suddenly, I understood how my own mother felt. I never expected Rose to take the name I had taken. I had not even thought of names until that very moment. Yet, when she said that I felt the bond that my own mother wanted with me. I guess it’s that human thing that gets in the way so often, the emotions that motivate some of our hopes and decisions. My mother wanted us to share those names. She meant no harm, no pride at all, just a desire to share that bond that a name holds for parents and children within certain traditions. I suddenly felt a sorrow that I somehow hurt my mother (who had died only a few months prior to Rose’s Confirmation Day). It was part of my grief, I guess. I felt happy that Rose took Patricia. We’d named her Rose Catherine, and both names after me (no, I’m not explaining the Rose part now...). I was happy to pass Catherine of Siena along to her as her patron saint--a very strong woman of Faith. Now she too had Patrick. Did she take it for Patrick? Or for me? I don’t know.

But, I matured a bit more that day, and understood my own mother a bit more that day. Our children unwittingly teach us so much about ourselves, and our parents when we are parents. So St. Patrick’s Day is my feast day, and Rose’s feast day. The fact that it falls during Holy Week doesn’t change that one bit. We are happy today. We celebrate our heritage, our Faith, our family bonds, and those grandparents we knew and never knew who passed this Irish thing to us that we love so much. We celebrate.

Theologically I think I might differ with Pat today. Not certain. But today, that doesn’t matter much. Today it’s a celebration of our Faith, and our Family!

Thanks for bringing Christ to our people Patrick! Party on!

Cait

"Celtic Soul Song"

Our people were pagan until we met Christ.
We recognized Him from the start.
Never a martyr was made at our hands
For Christ was in the Irish heart.

And His message of Good News that God loved the world
was something we always believed
for we knew well God’s Spirit in nature and life,
and it showed in the circles we weaved.

We knew of the other world all around us
such spiritual people were we
who hungered so deeply for life and for love
outraged it was nailed to a tree!

As Conor MacNessa first led the way
defending Christ unto his death,
our people have faithfully recognized Him,
calling Him with their last breath.

But the old pagan ways and the gods that we knew
continued along by Christ’s side,
called by a new name given by Rome.
It is not from Christ that they hide,

But from those who dare to speak in His Name,
conquering culture and lore,
proclaiming that Christ would have it that way,
destroying all that came before.

But free Celtic spirits knew that in Christ
there is neither male nor female,
and threatened the power that sought to control
the mind, heart and soul of the Gael.

And ’tho they have died for Christ through these years,
their spirit submitted to Rome,
their passion subdued by Jansenist lies
invading their Faith and their home.

’tho many a priestly priest came from our land
and they had the power, we know.
That power was Love, God’s very own.
(For others it just wasn’t so.)

For others the priesthood was not to serve God
and not to bring Grace to the soul.
With goodwill we trusted and honoured them all.
Their power was meant to control.

Yet still we are Irish and still our souls yearn
for that spiritual part in our lives.
Abused and afflicted, like Christ we were led,
as children and husbands and wives.

Obeying the laws, tho they were not our own
but placed upon us from outside,
we trusted their goodwill and trusted their vows
until we discovered they lied.

We look deep within now still knowing the Love
of that God who is greater than Rome,
to the God of our people, the God of our clan,
the God of our family and home.

The misuse of power, that we trusted so,
as quietly we bore our cross!
Exposed now for what it was, treachery, sin!
Our clear vision now is Rome’s loss.

But surely it was not Christ who did wrong
nor priests humbly serving our land,
but those filled with lust of power o’er us.
Satanical, clerical band!

Our impulse toward God will guide us as we
continue to seek the Divine.
We’ll see God in nature, in people and song
as clearly as in bread and wine.

And the ancient soul friends who’ve never left us,
who’ve always been here in our land
Daghdha and Bridget and from Tir na nOg
with Jesus they walk hand in hand.

Forget not our heritage and whence we came!
And honour the heart of the Celt.
We must be respected in Church as in home,
For before Rome knew Christ, we knelt.

T’was never a time that we did not know God,
regardless the titles we use.
And we welcomed the Truth, whatever the form.
The true God would never abuse!

So we hold fast to God as we always have,
as Pagan or Christian or Jew,
and take back the power that we gave to Rome.
Oh God, if only we knew....


Copyright 1995 Cáit Finnegan

2:50 PM - 0 Comments -

There is Always Another Day!

Today I'm celebrating my grandmother's birthday. Her name was Nellie Farrell Daly. We all called her Nin, a nickname her first grandson, my oldest brother gave her. Nin turned 124 years old today! Amazing to imagine. I thought she was old when I was a kid. She's a lot older now. I figure, with the way we always celebrated her birthday while she was here with us on Earth, there's a hooley in heaven tonight! All of her children, and many of her grandchildren are with her, so I know they are celebrating her life and the gift she was and is to us, eternally.

I used to think I would have her forever. What kid imagines losing a parent or grandparent, or sibling for that matter, until it finally happens? I've lost them all by now. My siblings died young (from my perspective anyway), in their 50's, and suddenly. My parents lived long lives. But my grandmother? She was born on February 17, 1884 and was buried on February 17, 1976. A sad way to celebrate that particular birthday it was. She was 92 that day, but had no cake, no candles. Only copious tears from all of us who loved her so much. I still miss her. She was like a second mom to me and taught me all about my heritage. She gave me Ireland. She gave me a great gift!

It took me a few years before I could go to her grave. The first time I went was on my wedding day in 1980, to introduce her to my soon-to-be husband, and I guess ask her blessing. I was, after all, marrying a priest. I knew she blessed us. I knew it. Wasn't she the grandmother who wept when I entered the convent? Who went into mourning? Wasn't she the grandmother who struggled to her feet, on the day I left the convent, to grab my hands and dance a jig with me, joyful to have me home? Holiness, my father would say, was found in the family. She agreed! Nin did not want me to live in a convent. Of course she gave us her blessing! I married my husband knowing I had it, hers and my parents' blessings.

Some think life ends with death. That there are no more days after that last breath. I do not believe that. I believe, with the Church, that death means life is changed, not ended. And so I believe that although I cannot see or hear the party tonight, I know it is going on, and will continue. Life is changed, not ended. At the end of the day...there is always another day. God is Love, and Love doesn't come to an end. We were created by that Love, and it is that Love that quickens us here, and leads us into our eternal life.

Happy Birthday, Nin! Thank you for sharing your life and love with me. I love you forever.

Your Cait


"The Memory of You"

My heart warms within me when I think of the days
that we had together; how I loved all your ways
Your faith and your love of God each day you shared
and with tender affection you showed me you cared.
You taught me to sing and to laugh and to cry
and to always be happy and to reach for the sky.
Your songs and your stories we knew were all true
and they'll live forever in the memory of you.

But your death, though expected, broke promises made:
that we'd go together and stand in the shade
of the Blood Red Rose Tree and O'Donnell Aboo.
Now these heroes of old are all standing with you.
And I envy those who are close by your side
but your presence is dear to me though you have died.
For our dreams, joys and plans for the things that we'd do
continue forever in the memory of you.

There were days in my childhood when I cried bitter tears
as I learned Ireland's history and her scars through the years.
Then we'd bind up those wounds with a song and a smile;
you nourished me with love - but just for a while.
As the years flew and we knew - closer we became -
for Jesus was coming to call you by name.
And our hearts weaved together as you time was due
and I'll live forever with the memory of you.

Now I stand by your grave and I fall to my knees
and I pray to our God and I beg Him: "Lord please
keep my mind on the thought of her being with You,
and not here below me but living anew.
O Lord strengthen the joy that she gave to me,
keep Irish eyes, smiling as she'd have it be."
I give thanks for those happy years, many - yet few,
and I live, Grandmother, with the memory of you.
My heart filled forever with the memory of you.

copyright 1976 Cait Finnegan

~~~~~~~~

"I've Not Forgotten You"

It's not that I've forgotten you
or put you from my mind.
It's not that I neglect to pray
or think from time to time.
Remembering the times we shared
and all the love we knew,
I sit at times alone in tears,
I've not forgotten you.

But life goes on (as you well know).
I strive for what you've gained.
I live each day in deepening faith;
I seek what you;ve attained.
And though my time is filled each day
with love and work an dprayer,
Don't ever think that I'd forget
for you are always there.

You're there each time I cry or smile,
you're there with each good deed;
for it was you who planted love -
you, the farmer - love, the seed -
a seed which grew from childhood love
to live eternally.
You're there as it is shared with all;
you're still there tenderly.

For lessons learned don't end with death
you taught them well, you see.
Your guidance comes through memories
of things you've said to me.
And as I love those God has given
you touch them too - through me
and thus we know love has no end;
our love will always be.

So please, don't think that I'd forget
though routine seems to reign,
for in the quiet of my day
I whisper low your name.
And yes, I miss you as I pray
with tears (my foggy dew);
be reassured then, of my love.
I've not forgotten you.

copyright 1995 Cáit Finnegan

Cycle of Life

This has been quite a week for our family. First we lost one of our parakeets, Biddy, mother of two keets, Baby B, her first hatched girl, and Bonnie Boy, her youngest son. She died just as her daughter was sitting on 5 eggs. Kind of sad she didn't see her grandkids.

Then my heart broke last Wednesday while at work when my friend of 9 years suddenly fell to a massive stroke right in front of me. My friend, my service dog, my buddy, she died so unexpectedly that it will take me a long time to get over the shock and grief. Honey, a beautiful German Shepherd, was also a mother-figure to our Yorkshire Terrier, Puca, who has never spent a day away from Honey in her 6 years. This is a major emotional hurdle for me, and has brought me to prayer seeking comfort. I find it in the belief that all creation was created by Love, for Love and to BE Love, and Love does not come to an end. Life is changed not ended, and Honey still IS, in whatever form our Creator knows to be best.

Tonight after fighting a long hard battle, my oldest cat died peacefully in my arms. We had given him to my mother for her 75th birthday. He was a kitten and so we put him in a little box, so when she opened it he popped up like a Jack in the Box, and surprised her. She was so surprised she slammed the cardboard cover back down pushing Tiger back into the box! We laughed for years that she left him scarred for life. Tiger brought my aging mother so much joy. It was the best gift she ever received, and became her friend. He was with her as she died, kissing her. We inherited him and I promised Mom I would take good care of him for her. I know I did that, especially these days as he was getting ready to meet her again. Tonight, Tiger took his last breath while I held him close telling him to "go to Grandma."

Three deaths in a week. But this morning was the first time I handled our first new baby. Hatched a few weeks ago, I left mom, dad and chick alone other than saying hi when cleaning, feeding, etc. But this morning I picked up little Sunshine for the first time. My husband was amazed at how at ease s/he was in my hands, but then I said, there is no reason to mistrust; s/he's never been harmed by a human! I hand raised the parents, so we all shared some chirps and I returned Sunshine to the nesting box. A beautiful little yellow (so far) parakeet. New life beginning while older life moved on...

I only began with birds about 10 year ago, so I'm not as familiar as I am with dogs, cats, or even goats. But I love these little friends, and learn more every day from them as well as my other pets.

So a week of death had its flip side too--beautiful new life. What kind of world would we have if every kid grew up witnessing this cycle gently in the home? I think we'd have far more respect for life, and a willingness to protect and nurture it, rather than take it for granted, or be fearful of the cycle, or do harm to others.

I give thanks tonight for the beautiful friends in my life who are feathered or furry! They are part of my spiritual community teaching me about the faithful love of our Creator. Like St. Ciaran who found community among the animals, I have been blessed by them as well.