Our pilgrimage to Ireland was nothing short of amazing! We were blessed with the most beautiful weather—only a few gentle showers the whole week. What a gift! We visited so many sacred places that it’s hard to highlight just one, but the silence of Glendalough still lingers in my heart and visiting my hometown and my alma mater Trinity College.
Nestled in a deep valley of shimmering lakes and soft green hills, Glendalough was founded by St. Kevin in the sixth century as a place of silence and refuge for those seeking God. At its height, over 3,000 people lived there in a vibrant community of prayer, love, and peace. Celebrating Mass at St. Kevin’s local parish—where stone still whisper centuries of prayer—was a profound reminder to me to choose silence more often, to listen to God in the wind and water, and to recognize Christ in every person who comes seeking help.
Then we visited my hometown and drove past my old primary and secondary school and had a peek down the street where my family parish was. It was just wonderful sharing my seaside city with all the pilgrims and all got a new insight into my desire for mountains and waters!
Another highlight was our visit to Trinity College in Dublin to view the Book of Kells, that breathtakingly illuminated Gospel manuscript created by monks around the year 800. Its intricate designs and brilliant colors testify to the devotion and skill of those who sought to preserve the Word of God for generations. After marveling at this masterpiece, I led our group across the historic Trinity campus, sharing memories of my student days—pointing out lecture halls, favorite walking paths, and the very rugby field where I spent countless hours playing and training. It was a special homecoming for me and gave everyone a deeper glimpse into my own history and passion for Ireland.
What I learned—or perhaps relearned—most about Ireland is that the faith of the people is still very much alive. While many may struggle with the institutional Church, their love for God and Christ remains vibrant. The Celtic spirituality of honoring nature and creation is thriving, woven into daily life. Their love of silence and their awareness of God’s presence in nature and community remind me of God’s constant invitation to find Him in all things and in all people at all times.
This Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 16:19-31) brings us the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. Notice carefully: the rich man isn’t condemned for something he did, but for what he failed to do. His sin was omission, not commission. He simply ignored the suffering man at his gate.
How often we worry about what we might “do wrong” before God, yet Jesus tells us to examine instead what we have left undone: the neighbor we pass by, the immigrant we overlook, the friend or foe we choose not to help. These are the quiet but powerful moments of discipleship that shape our eternal destiny.
As we return to our daily routines, let us keep our hearts open to those in need—whether across the street or across the world—and allow the stillness of Glendalough to inspire us to act with compassion and the spirit of Celtic spirituality to God in all things, in all people at all times. We have been holding you, our St. Simon community in prayer on our travels and I hope this weekend’s events are fruitful. The Green Team are hosting the Gospel of Food event on Saturday and Youth Ministry are cooking up Pancake Breakfasts after all Sunday morning Masses. Please consider joining in and supporting their work. More information is on the website for both events and you can pay cash at the door for breakfast.
I leave you with this that I wrote as were traveling from Glendalough into Dublin:
Blessing of the Journey’s Last Light
From the still green hush of Glendalough,
and the quiet Mass at St. Kevin’s,
may the valley’s deep peace
remain a well within your heart.
Through the familiar streets of Bray,
where childhood paths, school, and church
stir the gentle echo of beginnings,
may gratitude rise like morning tide.
In the Long Room of Trinity College,
where the Book of Kells guards its bright gospel,
may wisdom’s ancient fire
light your own remembering.
And in Dublin’s bright heart,
may the prayer of St. Laurence O’Toole—
peacemaker and steadfast guide—rest upon you all.
As he once carried the city in prayer,
may his spirit guard your journeys,
so that every path you walk
is shaped by courage, kindness,
and the nearness of Christ.
And in this final Mass of praise,
may every mile behind you
and every mile ahead
fold into the eternal blessing—
God in your past,
God in your present,
God already welcoming you home.
God bless,
Fr. Brendan