Fr John Cummins. The Notebook
On Wednesday morning, January 30, Fr John Cummins [pictured] looked forward to another busy day among his flock in the parish of Abbeyleix. One of the highlights of his day would surely be the celebration in the local primary school for Grandparents Day.
His first public event on that morning was Mass in his parish church. The Word of God would remind him of what he was about…the first line from the Letter to the Hebrews declared “all the priests stand at their duties every day” and as if to drive the message home the response to the psalm was “you are a priest forever, a priest like Melchizedek of old”.
The Gospel spoke of the sower going out to sow. The celebration in the school was memorable. Over 400 grandparents arrived and the most poignant moment was when Fr John the ‘Sower’ invited the children to stand and bless their grandparents, a beautiful gesture of love and gratitude for the gift of Faith passed down through the generations.
As he left the primary school that afternoon John’s mind was focused on the following few days, another Catholic Schools Week celebration on Thursday in the local post primary school and then Friday, February 1, as a Kildare man surely one of his favourite feasts; St. Brigid…you are a priest forever…John decided to make an early start on his First Friday calls so having called back into his home he was about to set out on his Eucharistic journey when tragedy struck.
Tragic news
A freak incident with his car in the driveway and he was killed instantly. As this tragic news began to spread there was disbelief and utter devastation. An outpouring of grief and prayer for the loss of a beautiful mind, an intelligent and articulate voice, a warm heart, a deeply spiritual and holy man, an effective pastor…you are a priest forever…despite the fact that his 27 years of priesthood had been among the most turbulent in the Irish Church, John loved being a priest.
The first half of John’s funeral took place in Abbeyleix. The last time I was in the church was three weeks earlier when John had celebrated a funeral Mass for a man in his 100th year. We had arranged then to have lunch together before the end of the month. How I’m regretting not having fulfilled that promise as I wait with the packed and stunned congregation.
A bell tolls and six of John’s classmates and friends carry his coffin to the foot of the altar. Just two days earlier he had stood in the same spot celebrating the Eucharist…you are a priest forever. ‘Forever’ had come way too soon.
As I watched his brothers and sister and mother, I could only think of Mary at the foot of the cross.
It is the evening of St Brigid’s Feast and her simple cross of green rushes is placed on John’s Coffin. Msgr John Byrne borrows a phrase from another very sad funeral in Donegal when he says we are “briste agus brúite”, broken and crushed.
Still broken, still crushed we gather again on Saturday. John’s bishop, Denis Nulty struggles to hold back his emotions as he leads us in prayer. He too has lost a brother, a son, a colleague, a friend…you are a priest forever.
It is the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord. At John’s insistence, the crib in Abbeyleix Church is still in place because the season of Christmas only ends today. Today is John’s presentation. His mother and family, his bishop, his priest brothers, his flock of friends and parishioners gather to ‘present’ John back into the embrace of a loving God.
Broken and crushed, giving John back in this way is the last thing we want to do but he would be the first to remind us that winter passes and Brigid brings the Spring…you are a priest forever.
On news of a friend’s sudden death
How thin the cloth, how fine the thread
That cloaks the living from the dead;
How narrowly, from breath to breath,
We plait our rendezvous with death.
How swift the tenant flees the gate;
The landlord’s writ, come soon or late,
Foreclosing slum or stately hall,
Hard bailiffs at His beck and call.
How feather-light the feeble spark
That shields us from the greedy dark;
Unjessed our souls like falcons fly!
How weak the lure, how wide the sky!
– Felix Dennis