ONE, AS I AND THE FATHER ARE ONE...

"HOW FAR FROM THE TREE OF RED-HAIRED KATIE"

If you've sent me an email since I've been gone, you've received a poem about my pilgrimage that contains the line above. Katie Walsh McDonough, my dad's mother emmigrated from Castlebar, in County Mayo on the western coast of Ireland. I don't know if her sister, Auntie Lily, accompanied her or they reunited here. Auntie Lily never married. Katie Walsh married Tom McDonough, Sr. and had three children: Mary Catherine, Lill and Thomas McDonough, Jr.-my dad.

I grew up knowing I was Irish. While having an awareness of my mother's family background (German)it wasn't the bigger part of our identity. Maybe it was because our name was McDonough. Maybe it was because my mother converted from Lutheran to Catholic. Don't ask me how exactly it was communicated that Irish was the identity we claimed, I really can't say. Maybe it was because Grandma Katie and Auntie Lily never lost their brogue, or that Irish red-hair kept showing up somewhere in each generation.

That came to mind yesterday as I sat down for dinner at a round table at the University of Cork. Two older women across the table would smile as our eyes would meet. The room was noisy and we didn't have the chance to speak. After the meal, one of the women asked if I was a sister to the woman sitting next to me. I laughed as I offered that I didn't even know her name! "Oh," she said-"I was convincing my friend that you two must be sisters." When I had the chance to catch a better look at the woman who was sitting next to me--I didn't see me--but she was the spitting image of Aunt Mary Catherine.

Almost immediately after that, I sat down for our opening presentation in the large old library of the college. An elderly nun from Cork sat next to me. Looking at my name tage she said: "You look like a Kathleen, but not a Weller," which made me laugh. "Actually, I said, I'm a McDonough." "Ai" she continued..."a McDonough you do look like--I thought you were from here." I told her that I was pleased to look like I belonged here. We continued a sweet brief conversation before the speaker began.

"...how far from the tree of red-haired Katie..." What tree have you fallen from--and what does it mean to you? Does your ethnic, family heritage still live in you and ground you in some ways? Are there traditions or sayings or practices you identify as coming from your lineage? If you could visit the place of your grand-parents, or great-grandparents (whether that's near or far) would you? Is it important to you?

In his leacture, our speaker Laurence Freeman, said that there is a place of mystery and light inside of us--where the Divine resides--a place of grace and peace. A practice of stillness, prayer, meditation or whatever we call our spiritual practice helps us to become acquainted with that place of mystery and light. (Our soul) It's a heritage, a lineage we all share--all crated beings--as we are all made in the image of God. How different the world would be if we would connect to one another from this inner place of grace and peace. How many wars could have been avoided, famines averted because of a generosity, understanding and love of brother to brother and sister to sister.

Our teacher for the first part of the week is Laurence Freeman, a Benedictine Monk and Director of the World Community of Christian Meditation--hosts of this event. He told the participants that by the end of this week, the mystery and light of the divine in each of us, here from 16 countries, will because of our prayer and meditation make us capable of seeing the mystery and light in each other.

And yet, this idea isn't uniquely his, is it? It's what Jesus had in mind when he said to His disciples: "Be One, as I and the Father are One." May it be so this week. May it be so in the world. May it be so between me and thee. BLESSINGS AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK.