Mavourneen

[dedalus_1947]

Kathleen Mavourneen, the grey dawn is breaking,

The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill.

The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking,

Kathleen Mavourneen, what! Slumbering still?

 

Oh, hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever?

Oh, hast thou forgotten this day we must part?

It may be for years, and it may be forever,

Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?

It may be for years and it may be forever,

Then why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?

 

Mavourneen, Mavourneen, my sad tears are falling,

To think that from Erin and thee I must part!

It may be for years, and it may be forever,

Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?

It may be for years and it may be forever.

Then why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?

(Kathleen Mavourneen: Composed by Fredrick Crouch, with lyrics by Marion Crawford - 1837.) 
 

 

Mavourneen is a term of endearment
From the Irish-Gaelic mo mhuirnín,

Meaning, “My Beloved”.

 
The Merrian-Webster Dictionary defines an epiphany as “a sudden manifestation of perception of the essential nature or meaning of something; an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking; an illuminating discovery; a revealing scene or moment”. I never seriously considered this elaborate definition of the word until I read James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in college. Previously, epiphany was simply the Catholic Church’s celebration of the Feast of the Three Kings on January 6; the occasion when Jesus Christ was “revealed”, “manifested”, or “shown” as the Messiah to the Magi who traveled from the East. Joyce mixed the secular and religious aspects of the word into a series of spiritual revelations in the actions and thoughts of his protagonist, Stephen Dedalus. The novel is an odyssey of epiphanies, culminating in Stephen’s realization that he must flee Ireland to find freedom as an artist. We all experience these illuminating moments in our life; those instances of sudden clarity. However, it is rarely just ONE blinding gestalt moment; rather it is a Joycean sequence of small epiphanies leading to the final one. It’s something like the Telephone Game (see Telephone Game)  we played as children – only in reverse. In this game the first transmission is metaphorical and abstract; but with each successive exchange it becomes clearer and clearer, until, POW - we get the full message at the end. I experienced one of those epiphanies a few weeks ago, and it has inalterably changed my plans for retirement. It began on a holy day.
 

 

When I arrived at Mass on May 24th, I was surprised to discover that it was the Feast of the Ascension. Traditionally, this “religious holiday” occurred 40 days after Easter Sunday and always fell on a Thursday. When I mentioned this to my wife Kathy, she explained that because the observance had declined so much, the Bishop used the option of moving it to Sunday. As I sat reviewing the scripture selections (Acts 1: 1-11; Ephesians 4: 1-7, 11-17; and Mark 16: 15-20), I read that on this day Jesus commissioned the apostles to go and “proclaim the Good News to every creature”, and promised that they would soon receive the power of the Holy Spirit. Christ had spent the previous 40 days “speaking about the Kingdom of God”, which the disciples still confused with the restoration of the kingdom of Israel.
 

 

The sermon was a disappointment. Instead of exploring the heightened tensions and anxieties of this crossroads point of separation between Christ and his apostles, the priest went on a meandering monologue about the evangelical mission of the Church to convert other people. I lost interest and my gaze wandered from the faces and movements of the altar servers to the men and women sitting in the side pews. As I watched two restless brothers struggling over their mother’s sunglasses, I heard the priest say,

“Now some people say that the Kingdom of God is here…”

He kept talking, but I was caught in that moment on that one line. The throwaway sentence shook loose memories of an audio tape on which another priest described the Kingdom of God during a spiritual retreat. Father Anthony De Mello, SJ,  believed that “the good news” (the gospel) which Christ proclaimed was the revelation that the Kingdom of God WAS HERE, RIGHT NOW!
“Wake up, wake up!” De Mello imagined Jesus saying. “Open your eyes and ears to the wonder of God’s Kingdom before you. You are in it, if you have the eyes to see and the ears to hear”.
This might have been what Jesus had spent 40 days telling and showing his disciples – but they weren’t getting it. They still thought of the Kingdom as an empire, or a government, like Israel at the time of King David or King Solomon. Suddenly today’s readings made more sense. Christ was not leaving his disciples to test them, or to await reinforcements in the shape of the Holy Spirit; he was leaving because he had to. If he did not leave, they would never learn to SEE the Kingdom of God with their own eyes, and experience it for themselves. They had to grow up, experience enlightenment through the Holy Spirit, and see that the Kingdom of God was already here, in them and among them. More important, the gospel was asking us to identify with the disciples of the story. We were the ones who needed to wake up and see the spiritual Kingdom of God around us, and choose to live and be a part of it.
 

 

This epiphany was the kind of insight I experienced when I was struggling out of a long depression many years ago. In those dark days, I sought awareness and peace by jogging, exercising, attending mass, meditating, and journaling. Lately, I’d stopped many of these healthy practices. For the past five months I’d been plunged into an emotional maelstrom - obsessing, and then avoiding thoughts of the end of school, my retirement, my daughter’s wedding, and my trip to Morelia for my “sabbatical-retirement” (see Retirement Sabbatical). This gospel was like a wakeup call to open my eyes, pay attention, search for what was really important, and do something about it. Even though my retirement was fast approaching, the reality was still unreal. I’d invented the idea of a “retirement- sabbatical” three years ago as a target to aim for when retirement was an illusionary concept. It was no longer hazy, it was very real, and it was a WALL. My familiar and predictable world would suddenly end on June 30^th. As the priest concluded his sermon, I felt a greater affinity with the disciples who faced a more dramatic and catastrophic end to their world with the loss of the Messiah. Just as they would begin asking themselves, “What will we do? How can we go on without Him?” I was asking myself, what will I do after June 30^th? What will I do to replace the career and profession that has filled 35 years of my life? What new purpose or mission will direct my new life? The mission Christ gave his disciples was to spread the good news that the Kingdom of God Was Here. Could I share in this mission by learning how to see and participate in this spiritual kingdom? These questions were confusing me. Instead of tying myself up in mental knots over them, I decided to make a practical leap to some constructive actions.

 

As the priest prepared the altar for The Sacrifice of the Eucharist, I began to mentally plan my days after June 30, 2009. I slowly constructed a list of daily and weekly activities that would address mind, body, and spirit, and, hopefully, make me cognizant of the Kingdom of God:

 

 

1. Awaken at 6:45 A.M. to write Morning Pages
2. Go to 8:00 or 8:15 Mass at OLV or St. Bernadine’s.
3. Meditate after mass for 30 minutes.
4. Eat breakfast at home or coffee shop.
5. Write; Visit Ken or friends; house chores; adventures and explorations.
6. Read, read, read.
7. Jog, cycle, or walk.
8. Water the lawn.
9. Regular movie and discussion dates with retired friends.

I halted my “To Do” list as we rose for the Lord’s Prayer. I felt smugly confident that I had been receptive to the “epiphany moment” and molded it into practical applications. For the time being I was satisfied with my healthy Action Plan, and I shifted my attention to the remainder of mass. It wasn’t until evening that I experienced the real epiphany.
 

Instead of going to a movie that day, Kathy and I decided to use the Movies On Demand option of our cable service. We had previously tried to do this on Valentine’s Day. However, the cable company had been overwhelmed that day by the popular response to their $1.99 promotion. The movie we selected that day froze on the screen and we gave up the effort. As we reviewed the available cinema selections anew, I noticed that the movie was still listed.

“Hey” I exclaimed, “there’s Nights in Rodanthe! Why don’t we try that one again?”

“Are you sure?” Kathy asked back. “It’s a pretty sappy movie”.

“I won’t mind” I responded. “I expected a love story when we picked it on Valentine’s Day. I like the acting of Richard Gere and Diane Lane, and I’m curious to finally see what it’s about”.
 

 

We began watching the movie. As anticipated, it was an emotionally contrived love story between a tortured, widowed plastic surgeon, who was estranged from his son, and a beautiful mother of two children, separated from a husband who left her for another woman. Yet, despite its predictability (he’s the only patron at a seaside bed and breakfast which she is managing as a favor for a friend, just as a storm is about to strike and isolate them), the story had some powerful situations and emotional scenes. I even teared up a few times. However, once Gere and Lane fell in love, he left for South America to repair the relationship with his son, who was also a doctor. A string of letters maintained the lover’s connection, spliced with scenes of Lane ironing out her family difficulties and confessing to her best friend that this new love was the real thing. Even as the movie, accompanied by romantic music, built up to the climactic reunion between the two lovers, I detected the foreshadowing hints.

“Something bad is going to happen” I said to myself, making an effort not to blurt it out to Kathy, sitting nearby. I found myself willing the movie to end happily, and not try any realistic or tragic twists. Despite this mental effort, the dreaded scene occurred, and I silently shook my head thinking:

“Why would a man risk the vagaries of life and leave the woman he loves to seek answers to ephemeral questions about love, forgiveness, and redemption? Couldn’t these questions be answered at home?”
That's when I had my final epiphany.
 

 

Life is a risky and unpredictable existence; sad things happen all the time (See Beacons of Light)  Yet I was blissfully planning to travel and live away from Kathy, Prisa, Toñito, and the people I love, for three to four months in Morelia, Mexico (see Retirement Sabbatical)?  What was I thinking? I had once traveled this road before. In 1973, the year I first met Kathleen, my friend Greg and I traveled to Mexico City to attend Summer School classes at the National University of Mexico (Universidad Nacional de Mexico) for two months. It was the most miserable time of my life. I’ve reread my letters to Kathy during that period. None of the trials and tribulations I experienced in my life came close to the utter barrenness of my time away from the woman I fell in love with. At that time, I believed I was committed to a course of action that could not be side tracked because of an infatuation with a beautiful college graduate student I’d just met 3 months before. But now I was thinking of moving away from the center of my heart, the partner of our family, and the muse of my soul. I must have been crazy! Yeah, I think I was; it was a good crazy THREE YEARS AGO, but perhaps, not such a good idea NOW. The Meaning of Life, the Kingdom of God, or the Answer to Retirement was not to be found in Morelia. Seeking it there would be like imitating the travels of Larry Darrell, the hero in W. Somerset Maugham’s novel, The Razor’s Edge (“The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard” – The Katha-Upanishad). Darrell traveled the world seeking the “meaning of life”, only to find it temporarily in his love and caring for Sophie, an emotionally crippled and broken widow. The meaning of life is not found SOMEWHERE ELSE; one needs only but to turn around and open their eyes, because it is all around us. It finally occurred to me that these last three years must have been torture for Kathy, silently wondering and worrying if I was actually going through with my plan to live and study in Mexico for a semester. Yet she never argued, never nagged, and never whined about the foolishness of such a plan. She never challenged my dream or questioned the underlying logic to such a move: “Who or what was I fleeing from?” I know she prayed, and I think she believed me when I told her:

“Kathy, relax; a lot can happen in three years. Perhaps I’ll change my mind, or some other event will change it for me”.

She was as silent and prayerful as the original Kathleen Mavourneen of song. The Irish lass who was willing to allow her lover to emigrate to America in the 1800’s to find a better life. I decided Kathy’s prayers were answered on Ascension Sunday, with this epiphany a month before my retirement.
 

 

I told Kathy of this revelation the following day. I had toyed with the idea of waiting until our anniversary on August 2 to announce this change of plans; but despite the patience from 34 years of marriage and two children - I couldn’t keep back the good news. I don’t think I explained it to her as clinically and logically as I described it here. I doubt I mentioned Joyce or De Mello at all. I think I emphasized my bewilderment at having reached such a ridiculous decision against all the instincts of my heart. They finally won through.