Mass @ 10am – St. Clare’s Church, Graiguecullen
Introduction:
We gather on August 11th, the Feast of St. Clare. Her feast is determined, like many of our saints feasts, by the date of their death – in her case it was August 11th. But this year we also honour the eighth centenary of the death of St. Francis.
We gather in St. Clare’s Church, Graiguecullen once again in celebration of St. Clare and St. Francis and indeed in celebration of the Poor Clare’s presence among us here in Carlow for the past 133 years. The Rule of their Order was only confirmed by Papal Bull, the day before St. Clare’s death. The Poor Clare’s, by their life and example witness to us the face of God.
We seek His face. We ring their bell. We knock on their door. We write out our petitions. Let’s for a moment recollect ourselves as we call to mind our woundedness and brokenness in His presence as we pray…
- Is tusa Tobar na Trócaire – you are the wellspring of mercy:
A Thiarna, déan trócaire
- Is tusa Slí na Fírinne – you are the way of Truth:
A Chríost, déan trócaire
- Bí linn i gconaí, ós ár gcomhair amach – be with us always, showing us the way. A Thiarna, déan Trócaire
Homily:
I have celebrated a lot of weddings in my life. There is nothing I enjoy more than sacramental moments with family and friends. Indeed Saturday last I baptised my four month old grandniece, Isla Kate, a daughter to my nephew Leo and his wife Shauna.
In all the weddings I’ve celebrated over the past 39 years, including my earlier year as a deacon, the gospel from Matthew that relays ‘the parable of the ten wedding attendants’ has never been used by a couple. Today we use this text from St. Matthew to honour the Poor Clare’s and to celebrate the Feast of St. Clare.
It speaks a language that always grates a little with me, words like “foolish”[1]; “drowsy”[2]; phrases like “the door was closed”[3] and “I do not know you”[4]. The Strait of Hormuz reminds us of our global dependency on oil. One fifth of the world’s oil supply passes through the Strait.
And here we have a parable presented to us of five foolish and five wise girls. The foolish ones took lamps but no oil; the wise brought flasks of oil along with lamps. Again I’ll remind you ‘foolish’ is a judgemental word and one which shouldn’t be in anyone’s vocabulary. What seems absent for me is the generosity that comes with having flasks of oil. There is a world of difference between “there may not be enough for us and for you …”[5] and ‘there is not enough …”. Five loaves and two fish fed thousands, it wasn’t in Jesus’ vocabulary to say “there may not be enough”[6].
The Feast of St. Clare celebrates generosity, the generosity of an 18 year old in 1212 who belonged to the noblest family, leaving everything behind her, making her way to Assisi to find Francis. He had made a similar journey, the same sacrifice, seven years earlier.
Clare could have chosen fine clothing, comfort, a socially acceptable marriage; instead she heard Francis preach about Christ, about the poor, about distain for riches. That word entered her heart, and she acted upon it.
We are told it was Palm Sunday in 1212 when Clare walked out on her family and found her way to the Portiuncula. Before the altar of the Blessed Virgin, she laid aside her rich, lavish clothing, to wear the clothes of Christ. As St. Paul says Clare “put on Christ”[7]. She became little before God. Her poverty was not misery, but it freed her. Her hands, empty of riches, now allowed her entirely to hold onto Christ.
Francis had done this some years earlier. In the Portiuncula Clare was freed of her riches and veiled for Christ. Fourteen years later in 1226 Francis sensing his imminent death, asked the brothers to carry to the Portiuncula, the same chapel were Clare was veiled. It was there he would breathe his last on October 4th.
It was in the Portiuncula that Francis first heard the instruction: “Francis, go repair my church, which, as you see, is falling into ruin”, at first believing it was the one in Assisi, but in fact it was the Church, universal. It still needs repairing, there will always be work to be done. This year we honour the eighth centenary of Francis’ death, we are very aware that while he has died, his poetry, his song, his example, like Clare’s remains.
The Poor Clare’s here in Carlow, as we fondly remember Sr. Therese who died exactly a month ago on July 11th, the Poor Clare’s continue the song of St. Clare and the poetry of St. Francis. Without Francis, there wouldn’t have been Clare. The man in the rough, tattered habit, the man who wore a knotted rope for a belt, changed Clare’s way of looking at everything and forever altered the direction of her life.
Was she foolish? Her family thought so, and like Francis’ tried to drag her back home to see reality. Was she wise? Well eight centuries later we are still talking about her. The oil in her lamp continues to reflect the face of Christ. She has entered the wedding feast. We see the same reflective love in the face of the Poor Clare’s, let’s also find it in one another.
[1] Mt.25:2
[2] Mt.25:4
[3] Mt.25:10
[4] Mt.25:12
[5] Mt.25:9
[6] ibid
[7] Rm.13:14