James Joyce once described Kingstown Pier as a disappointed bridge. Now known as Dun Laoghaire , it is also where most passenger ships arrive at and leave from Dublin both then and now. The idea of the Kingstown Pier as a “disappointed bridge,” unable to go all the way across the Irish Sea, says much about our many journeys, as well as telling of our ancestors for those of us with an Irish background. Forced by circumstance, they never the less had courage to leave home.

 Piers take you beyond the restrictions of the coastline, offer a different view and, most importantly, some bracing fresh air; bridges however take you over obstacles, from one side to the other and enable you to continue the journey.

 The Council of the mid-Sixties could at first be considered a pier, a vantage point from where, leaving the safety of the shore, new visions could be seen. John XXIII talked of ’opening windows’, many of which had been screwed shut for years. There was excitement in the air, a spring time of expectancy, openness and confidence.

 But for some it remained no more than a pier and the anxiety raised by this new vision sought to ensure that the pier never became a bridge. At the first opportunity they headed for the safety of the shore. They seemed to disregard the words of the Psalmist ‘Without vision the people perish’. Kevin Kelly, in his book on the Council ‘Fifty years receiving Vatican II’, described the Council as ‘a continuing event’, in other words, a pier became a bridge and  it is therefore still leading us somewhere. It is a gift we have been given.

 How do we manage when selected planks of a bridge are lifted during the journey, when having set out in confidence with fellow pilgrims, gaps appear in the pathway slowing progress? There is only one answer, with great difficulty and often real disappointment.  

 Living by faith is a hard journey at the best of times, living by faith when road works appear overnight is even harder. Then the demand on our faith creates a tension, gives rise to uncertainties and slows progress.

 But maybe that is an essential aspect of bridge-building; it ain’t easy. And there is risk of industrial accident on the way.

 Let’s look for a moment at our parish gatherings, some of them long-established city communities, large and diverse. Other parishes are formed from small village families whose roots go back a long way, where children were brought up to live in the shadows of grandparents and beyond. How do our parishes respond to the challenge of transforming the pier into a bridge? How do they cope with the road works that threaten disruption to the enterprise? Where will their children go?

 I would suggest a number of ways are open to us, ways in which all can take part, priest and people, religious communities and laity.

   First of all, by being who we profess to be, a community brought together through the love of Christ.

 Secondly, by listening to each other’s story, sensitive to their joys and sorrows, willing to walk awhile in their company; do not be afraid.

 Thirdly, by talking with each other, by being with each other and by praying together with sincerity; in that way we make our parish community real, we love one another.

 Too often our view of parish is a blend of motorway service station and imposed obligation. Where is the outreach? Where is the living liturgy that goes beyond patterns of words to offer inspiration to the people?

 Given the increasing crisis in vocations to the priesthood, one of the crucial discussions we should be having, both priests and people, revolves around just three words: ‘What is Parish?’ for only when we have some grasp of what is, after all, a complex structure, can we continue bridge-building.

 One thing we easily forget, that although a parish has become a convenient construct of organization within a diocese, it needs a great deal of effort to make it a living, vital community. Francis, the inspiration of the Bishop of Rome, directly said to the first friars, "You only know as much as you do!" A parish of passive attenders falls short of the mark.

 Not so long ago, those sharing in the Eucharist, knew each other by name, they were ‘local’. Now with our increased mobility that is not necessarily the case. We are often away from our parish home and become visitors in another place sharing their Eucharist, welcome guests at the table of the Lord.

Are there alternative patterns that we might choose or that might be forced upon us through circumstance? And what should be our response in the meantime, active involvement or passive on-looking? We need to "find new ways forward" and stop being so afraid of change.

 To be afraid of change is to be afraid of growing up. Change and growth are finally the same thing. Unfortunately, the church has trained many priests and people in not growing up and we are reaping the consequences.

 I recently received this comment in an e-mail from a White Father I know who is visiting Tanzania . ‘During the offertory here, people bring all kinds of gifts apart from cash: often food, soap and household goods of different kinds.   For example, this morning the offerings included two bags of cement, half a dozen mugs and a bottle of Harpic.’  Well, that’s certainly different from an English Parish Church on a Sunday morning, for sure.

 Keep a close eye on your own parish Offertory Procession, it might surprise you one day.

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