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Fr. Jarek Kurek: Some fifteen hundred years ago there lived a holy man who, like Abraham, who we heard about in the 1st reading, was not afraid to take risks. Because of that courage, that holy man was richly blessed by God; and again, like Abraham, he became a blessing for countless people in the centuries that followed.

Most of you here, I’m sure, know this saint well, as students of a Benedictine school. It is St Benedict—Benedictus in Latin, a name that simply means “blessed”—whom I want to speak to you about today.

Benedict must have been around your age when he made his first major life decision. Disappointed with the world he lived in—despite receiving a good education—he chose to leave it behind. At first glance, this might seem like a reckless move. But deep down, Benedict knew exactly what he was doing. It was not an impulsive escape, but a well-informed decision. As his biographer tells us, “even as a boy, Benedict had the heart of an elder.” Already as a boy he had the heart of and elder…

So he left everything because he wanted to respond fully to God’s call and to serve Him alone. This marked the beginning of Benedict’s journey into the mountains—both literally and spiritually.

The beginnings were not easy. Benedict chose a harsh way of life: high up in the wilderness, with little food and great isolation. Yet aren’t these very challenges the ones that test a person’s character and shape true resilience?

Before long, word of his radical way of life spread, and disciples began to arrive. People wanted to learn from him and to live as he did. Eventually, Benedict was asked to lead a nearby community. This is where he truly began to learn about human nature—about how difficult it can be to guide others. And believe me, this was not an easy lesson. In fact, this was the moment when Benedict lived out, in its fullest sense, the exhortation we heard from St Paul in today’s second reading: “Join with me in suffering for the Gospel.”

What happened? The very community he was leading tried to poison him. Why? Because Benedict’s standards were too demanding for them. He aimed too high. And how did he respond? He did not retaliate or argue. Instead, he calmly left. Once again, he made a wise and well-discerned decision.

At that time, Benedict felt it was better to live alone with God. He withdrew because he saw things differently. He had a broader, more global vision—one that allowed him to grow even further in wisdom.

In time, Benedict was blessed with deeper spiritual insight and new disciples who truly wanted to learn from him. It was through these experiences, and his remarkably visionary approach, that the Rule of St Benedict was born. This famous document responded to the needs of people in Benedict’s own day, it paved the way for many generations—and it continues to guide thousands of monks around the world, as well as many lay people who strive to live according to its spirit.

It was also Benedict who set the pattern of placing monasteries high in the mountains—think of Monte Cassino. Even today, many Benedictine monasteries are blessed with truly spectacular locations, places that lift both the eyes and the soul.

Finally, consider Benedict’s own experience of a kind of Transfiguration. All his life, he aimed high, relentlessly moving upward. In the final phase of his life, he was granted an overwhelming vision of light. We are told that he saw the whole world gathered into a single ray of sunlight. Within that light, he saw a soul being carried upward by angels in a ball of fire. And I like to believe that there, as in today’s Gospel, Benedict beheld Christ himself—revealed in his cosmic glory.

Gregory the Great, Benedict’s biographer, explains how such a vision was possible. It happened because Benedict’s mind and heart had grown so vast that they could embrace the whole world.

And that is my message to you: aim high. Take risks. Grow in wisdom. Imitate St Benedict by expanding your heart and your mind, and step by step, become a person of his stature. Thus you too will be a blessing for many.

On Friday, 14th February we celebrated in a small way our long-standing friendship and connection with Maredsous Abbey School in Belgium. Our school captain Peter Purcell welcomed and exchanged gifts – including sports gear and beer! – with the school captain at Maredsous, Alexis van Rijckevorsel. Both young men could converse in the language of the other which immediately warmed relations.

Two other Maredsous students, Maximilien, (Alexis’ brother), and François Mertens were present, having just completed a six week stay ‘on exchange’ at Glenstal Abbey School, benefiting from a tradition that goes back decades. They fully participated in the school life and so we are all the better for it.

They also recalled our shared past: that Maredsous received from Ireland one of its outstanding abbots, the Dubliner Bl. Joseph Columba Marmion OSB. It was in his memory that Glenstal Abbey was founded by the monks of Maredsous in 1927.

One of the founders, Fr Hubert Janssens OSB, is Max’s grand-uncle and François and must surely be of the extended family of another founder, Fr Winoc Mertens OSB! Deep roots and shared values from the Benedictine tradition enrich our students and prepare them to make their contributions to the world.

May ‘the strong [among them] have something to long after, and the weak not draw back in alarm!’ (RB 65).

To this end we appreciate the leadership of Ms Grainne Foley, Deputy Principal,  and Abbot Columba McCann OSB.

John O’Callaghan OSB

We invite you to join our long-running Easter retreat taking place from Thursday 2nd to Sunday 5th April.

Journey with us from Holy Thursday to Easter Sunday and deepen your experience of these holy days through solemn liturgies, a series of talks, time together and space for personal reflection.

Talks will include:

• ‘This Pale Galilean’ with Simon Sleeman OSB on Good Friday.
• ‘A Good Friday Meditation’ with Oscar McDermott OSB.
• ‘The Mystery and the Mud’ with Emmaus O’Herlihy OSB.
• ‘The Empty Tomb and Faith in the Resurrection (Jn 20:1-10)’ with Lino Moreira OSB.

The cost is €360 fully residential, €250 non residential including meals, or €180 fully residential for students.

For bookings and more information contact guestmaster@glenstal.com

January is often a quieter month for monastic guest masters and guest mistresses, and so every two years we take the opportunity to gather together for a time of reflection and prayer. This year, monks and nuns with responsibility for hospitality in monasteries across Ireland and Great Britain met for three days at Kylemore Abbey, in beautiful Connemara.

Benedictine, Cistercian and Bernardine communities were represented, with guest masters and mistresses hailing from Buckfast Abbey, Stanbrook Abbey, Quarr Abbey, Glencairn Abbey, Silverstream Priory, Kylemore Abbey and Hyning Monastery. Pluscarden Abbey in Scotland joined us via Zoom.

Our theme was simple: “Welcoming the guest as Christ today.” We shared experiences of hospitality in our different monasteries and quickly discovered how much we hold in common. Though our settings vary, many of the challenges are the same. We spoke, too, of a striking pastoral reality: how many people arrive at our doors tired and worn down by the pressures of modern life. Again and again we see how deeply guests value the rhythm, prayer, and quiet of the monastic guesthouse.

One important insight was that hospitality does not have to be grand or luxurious to be authentic. It is not great gestures that make a guest feel welcomed as Christ, but the creation of a safe space, and the offering of reverence and respect. A listening ear, a simple meal, a peaceful room – these speak powerfully.

We were also reminded of something even more fundamental. While we are called to welcome Christ in the guest, it is Christ who truly does the welcoming. Our task is to set the table, to open the door, to be present. When we step aside and allow Christ to act, many marvellous things can happen.

The days in Kylemore were filled with prayer, conversation and encouragement. We returned to our monasteries strengthened in our shared vocation: to receive each guest as Christ and to trust that Christ is already at work long before we open the door.

Oscar McDermott OSB

This weekend the monastic community remembers Jean Dupiéreux OSB on the 70^th anniversary of his death.

Maurice François Joseph Ghislain Dupiéreux was born in Florennes, Belgium, on 22nd September 1888. Following matriculation in the natural sciences and the humanities at the Collège Nôtre Dame de La Paix in Namur, he entered the Abbey of Maredsous on 5th October 1908. He received the name of Jean-Baptiste. He was professed on 7th February 1910.

Between 1902 to 1912 he studied philosophy in Maredsous and from 1912 to 1914, theology in Mont-César in Louvain. He was ordained priest on 19th September 1915. Having served as an army chaplain during the First World War, he taught in the Abbey School at Maredsous from early 1919 to October 1925. He then administered the local parish of St Martin until 1929 when he came to Glenstal as bursar.

Father Jean served as bursar until 1945, and was novice master from 1942 to 1948. When the monastery became independent, he changed his stability to the new Conventual Priory. He served as instructor to the lay-brothers from 1949 until his death. Here in Glenstal and in the neighbourhood he was known as Father John.

His abiding interest was in the scouting movement, in particular the Catholic Boy Scouts of Ireland. It was he who began the series of summer-camps for scouts, which lasted until the 1990s. Although he had received the usual service-medals for his role in the First World War, he was most proud of the Bronze Medal of Merit awarded him by the Court of Honour of the Catholic Boy Scouts of Ireland on 18 th March 1953. The esteem in which he was held by the scouting movement was reflected in the guards of honour that attended his removal, the overnight vigil and Requiem in the old chapel and the bearer-party of scouts who carried his coffin to the monastic grave-yard.

He died in St John’s Hospital, Limerick, on 29th February 1956.

May he rest in peace.

We are asking for your support.

On Sunday December 19^th 2027, Glenstal Abbey marks 100 years since the official beginning of monastic life in this place; the Barrington estate was entrusted to us in May 1927. Since those early days, successive generations of monks, responding to the signs and needs of their time, have courageously built and developed, planned and visioned into the future.

The life and work of this community has influenced the fields of liturgy, hospitality and education, ecumenism, spirituality, the arts, music, literature, research, agriculture, forestry, renewable energy, and much more. It has and continues to be a place of encounter, enrichment and peace for countless people. It is a place where people connect, a place where many of you find belonging and shared vision.

In this last 100 years, all that has been achieved is due in no small measure to the kindness, generosity and support of so many. For all that has been given and gifted, for the connections and relationships, all these blessings that we have received, the monastic community are profoundly grateful. For you, we give thanks to God.

Now as we turn towards the next 100 years, we ask you, friends and benefactors to continue the journey with us. We ask you to continue to believe in and support us. We live and minister in a changing world where monasteries are more needed than ever. People come here in great numbers, to engage both mind and senses in exploring the mystery of themselves and of God, to find rest, to reflect, and to renew their spirit. Many, unable to be physically present connect with us through the Abbey’s webcam, newsletter and Chronicle.

As we continue responding to the needs of our time, our estate, and the built and natural environment needs investment and upgrading. We need your help, as we cannot do this alone. From the monthly or yearly contribution for the day-to-day running of the Abbey and estate to the large project funding, you can help in many ways according to your means.

Donating

Regular Giving is the simplest and most efficient way to do this. Setting up a monthly transfer takes the hard work out of the process for you and is most beneficial to us. A regular donation according to your means is what we ask of you.

One-off larger donations will go to the Glenstal Development Fund. This fund allows us to budget and plan for capital projects. We have through the generosity of our donor now completed the 4 year restoration of the castle exterior. 2026/2027 will see strategic planning with regard to other elements of the Abbey campus. We will be asking your support particularly in the areas of green energy, building upgrade and hospitality facilities, to name but a few.

Tax Efficient Giving benefits us if your individual or company monthly/yearly donation amounts to between €250 and €1m in a calendar year, Glenstal Abbey can claim the tax back through The Charitable Donation Scheme (Revenue.ie). Should you reach this threshold, with your permission, we will contact you to help us make this claim.

A Bequest in your Will or Trust is the most common, and simplest, way to support the monastery by naming Glenstal Abbey Trust as a beneficiary in your will or other estate planning documents. Bequests can be specified amounts, or part of or all of your estate after settlement of any obligations. Consultation with family members is important in this regard. Bequests to Glenstal Abbey generally are deductible for estate and gift tax purposes.

All and any support is most welcome. If you have questions, or would like to discuss anything in more detail, please do contact our Bursar, Br Pádraig McIntyre OSB, on 061-621000 or email bursar@glenstal.com. You can also make a donation directly:

Donate here

Glenstal Abbey Trust (Charity Name)

CHY4001 (Charity Registered Number)

Glenstal Abbey Murroe, County Limerick, V94 TK61 Ireland

Saint Benedict took Lent seriously. He dedicates Chapter 49 of his Rule for monks to the ‘Observance of Lent.’  He doesn’t mince his words – ‘the lives of monks should be Lenten in character at all times.’ But he quickly acknowledges that most of us are not able for that and urges us at least to make an extra effort ‘in these holy days to atone for what was neglected at other seasons.’ And he says this will be done worthily if we abstain from vice, if we work at prayer with tears, at reading with compunction of heart and abstain from some food, drink and or sleep.

Benedict’s categories of reading, prayer, compunction of heart and abstinence seem like things we easily neglect at other seasons. But they are necessary if we are to live well, to live wisely, in this distracted, restless world. Living within our ‘culture of comfort,’ it is good and even necessary to take a ‘pull’ on ourselves and do something by way of stretching our lives; take aim at areas we have neglected in our daily round.

Benedict ends his chapter warning his monks that they must set off on their own project of reform but submit what they intend doing for Lent to the Abbot to avoid ‘vainglory and presumption.’

When I joined the monastery over fifty years ago, we had a practice that reflected Benedict’s advice. Each monk drew up a list of things he would do for Lent. The list had to include: a book to read, a virtue to practice and some food to abstain from. This list had to be presented to the Abbot before Ash Wednesday for approval.

Of these three spiritual disciplines, the practice of virtue is not something we hear much about these days. A virtue has become the trait of the ‘goody good’ rather than a useful spiritual practice. Unless it comes in just ‘one click’ we are not interested. This is to our detriment. Virtues opted for and practiced are our allies and fortify us to live well as we wade out into the mainstream of life’s many challenges.

Any number of virtues suggest themselves, such as reverence, gratitude, patience. Maybe patience is the one we need to practice more than any other these days. Carlo Carretto, who spent over 20 years in the Sahara desert as a monk, was asked when he emerged if God had asked anything of him during his long silence. His answer was clear and unambiguous: ‘God is asking us to be patient.’

We are no longer used to being patient. We expect things to happen immediately and with ‘one click’ and become irritated or even angry at any delay. It wasn’t always so – throughout most of human history, patience was not a choice – our ancestors waited for light, waited for the harvest, for rain, for news.

The dictionary definition of patience may surprise you: ‘the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious.’  I was surprised by the tenor of this definition particularly by the inclusion of suffering.

‘The greatest temptation of our time,’  says Eugene Rosenstock Hussey, ‘is impatience in its full original meaning – a refusal to wait, undergo, suffer. We seem unwilling to pay the price of living with our fellow people in creative and profound relationships.’

We are in a hurry and want, even demand, the quickest, the fastest, and are contemptuous of slowness. But human life, especially spiritual life, does not do speed. ‘There are no shortcuts’ says Eugene Peterson, ‘to becoming the person we are created to be.’  Human life is complex and deeply mysterious and requires a ‘deep passion for patience.’

Why not take Benedict’s advice? Select a book that will move you closer to the Lord; abstain from some food (fasting has been shown to be beneficial in so many ways, and not just spiritually!) and practice a virtue… maybe even patience.

Simon Sleeman OSB

Fr. Lino Moreira: When Jesus was baptised in the River Jordan, the Spirit of God descended upon him (cf. Mt 3:16), and a voice from heaven declared, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased’ (Mt 3:17). This event marked the public anointing of Jesus as the Messiah. One might expect him to begin his ministry immediately, but Matthew reports that he was first led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil (cf. Mt 4:1). Jesus spent forty days and forty nights in the wilderness fasting, and when he was hungry, the tempter came, seeking to divert him from his mission. 

“If you are the Son of God,” says the devil, “turn these stones into loaves” (Mt 4:3). The suggestion seems reasonable, even compassionate. Surely, the Messiah’s first and most urgent task would be to feed the hungry, starting with himself, by changing the stones of the desert into bread. Yet human experience shows that even if the world’s scarcity of food and necessities were suddenly overcome, a far deeper hunger would remain: the hunger of the soul. Therefore, Jesus replies, quoting from the Book of Deuteronomy: “It is written, ‘One does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God’” (Mt 4:4). It is only by turning to God that the human soul is satisfied, and it is only by listening to God’s word and living it out that a fair distribution of this world’s riches can be achieved. The role of the Messiah is not to act as a deus ex machina by miraculously providing for everyone’s material needs, but to purify our hearts from selfishness and greed.

Then the devil took [Jesus] to the holy city and set him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘they will bear you up on their hands, lest you strike your foot against a stone’” (Mt 4:5-6). This time the tempter urges Jesus to test whether God will protect him during his mission. Quoting Psalm 90 (91), the devil reminds Jesus that God has promised to watch over his own, particularly within the precincts of his sacred dwelling. Therefore, if the Son of God were to throw himself down from the pinnacle of the temple, his Father would surely keep him from harm. Jesus replies with another quotation from the Book of Deuteronomy: “It is also written, ‘Do not put your God to the test’” (Mt 4:7). Indeed, to seek a demonstration that God is true to his word would be an attempt to reduce him to an object of experimentation, and such pride, which makes genuine trust impossible, undermines the love that alone can sustain a real relationship with God. 

Next, the devil shows Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, saying: “All these I will give you, if you fall down and worship me” (Mt 4:8). Now Jesus is invited to establish a worldly kingdom, ushering in a golden age of peace and prosperity for all. However, to fulfil what the Law and the prophets say about him (cf. Lk 24:27), the Messiah must remain in the course of human history the seemingly powerless one. He is the suffering servant spoken of by the prophet Isaiah, and only through his obedience and self-giving – through his passion, death and resurrection – can he bring about salvation in accordance with God’s plan. Therefore, quoting from the Book of Deuteronomy for the third time, Jesus replies: “Away with you, Satan! For it is written, ‘The Lord your God shall you worship, and him alone shall you serve’” (Mt 4:10).

When we reflect on Jesus’ temptations, we begin to recognise our own temptations. Our preoccupation with solving immediate problems can make us forget that true life – and indeed peace and justice for our world – comes from listening to God’s word and putting it into practice. Bitter disappointment or fear of what lies ahead can lead us to seek certainty on our own terms rather than trusting in God’s unfailing love. And finally, we can be tempted to worship power and wealth instead of the Lord God, the only one we are called to serve. 

During the forty days of Lent, we are invited to spend time with Jesus in the desert, learning from him how to identify and resist the devil’s deceptions. In this way, our hearts are purified for the joyful celebration of Easter.

Fr. John O’Callaghan: ‘If you choose you will keep the commandments and so be faithful to his will’. This statement, which we heard from the Old Testament, was followed by the words of Jesus in the gospel ‘if your righteousness does not surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never get into the kingdom of heaven.’ It was the Ten commandments, and a multitude of other precepts, that the scribes and Pharisees were teaching. So there is a difference between the teaching of the Pharisees and what Christ calls for, one surpasses the other. That is what we should consider today, with reference to the examples Christ himself used: murder, adultery and breaking an oath.

Christians know well that the sixth commandment, against adultery, is concerned with the special respect due to, the inviolability of, the relationship between husband and wife: that that relationship is not to be intruded upon by a third party, it is not to be a transitory connection, but a permanent and profound one, where spouses share with each other their true worth and stature. The attraction of the sexes, which in the first instance is a biological law, one of nature’s tricks (one might say), receives a human and spiritual dimension within which fidelity and ties of love can develop.  It is a relationship in which what is sensual becomes spiritual and what is spirit become sensually tangible. A relationship of married love is a way in which a human being can open him or herself up for another.  And that love is not all giving, but it is not all taking either. Anyone who gives love must also receive it as a gift. As Christ said (Jn 7:37) one can become a source from which rivers of living water flow. Yet to become such a source, one must constantly drink anew from the original source. 

And this, we may add, gives us some insight into God. God’s love for us, by  contrast, is totally giving. We know, by simply reflecting, that by his very nature, by definition, God does not need us. He has choosen freely to enter into relationship with us. And his love is more than creative generosity for God is one who forgives, as we see in sacred history. Israel betrayed him, in the language of the Old Testament, committed adultery against him, broke the covenant made at Sinai and worshipped other gods. It would have been entirely fair and right for the people of Israel to be judged, condemned and repudiated. For the relationship to end. But his excess of love was revealed when, in the words of the prophet Hosea, he said: ‘How can I abandon you, O Ephraim! How can I hand you over, O Israel! My heart recoils within me my compassion grows warm and tender… I will not destroy… for I am God, not man, the Holy One in your midst’. God turned against Himself, God’s love is greater than his justice’. It is a prefiguring of the mystery of the Cross: God’s love for humankind goes beyond all reason, beyond justice, by becoming human in Christ, by sharing in our life, our death and gifting us with the resurrection. 

When we encounter this love, as an event, perhaps as a personal experience, we are inspired to a more mature discipleship than straightforward obedience to Ten Commandments and precepts. This is all the difference between the teaching of the Old and New Testaments. The Old is at best a preparation for the New, an education for a better way of living.

The same logic of love applies to the other demands made on us in today’s gospel. ‘You shall not murder’. Within ourselves we may find it obvious that we should not kill someone else. However at the two extremes of life, its beginning and its end, Christian love inspires us to go beyond evaluating life in terms of practical utility and therefore possibly eliminating it; rather we are inspired to  preserve life from conception through to death. We are called to help people to live rather than help them to die. 

And, thirdly, ‘you must not break your oath’. Tell no lie! Do not bear false witness! Truth is a fundamental gift for humanity. All the commandments are commandments of love or are developments of the command to love.  In that sense they all have to do quite explicitly with the precious gift of truth. One recalls the dictum of Edith Stein: ‘Accept nothing  as love if it lacks truth,  accept nothing as truth if it lacks love.’

To conclude, the Christian faith has retained the core of Israel’s faith, while at the same time giving it new breadth and depth. We are not simply called to obey commands for good behaviour; we are called to a personal response to the gift of love received from the God in Christ and which flows over to love of neighbour. The first line of the First Letter of St John articulates the heart of Christian faith and our calling: ‘God is love, and the person who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in that person’. (1 Jn 4:16)

Fr. Mark Patrick Hederman. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Salt and Light are two images suggesting the amazing reality of who we are if we only choose to realise this fact. Salt is a rock, perhaps the only one we eat to keep ourselves alive. It is also a mineral, a stable chemical compound, which never rots or decays. That is why it has been used for millennia as a way of preserving food, and as a way of embalming dead bodies, such as Egyptian mummies: Tutankhamun, or King Tut, for instance, who reigned as pharaoh in Egypt a thousand three hundred and thirty years before Jesus Christ came on earth.  

You are the salt of the earth means that you are potentially everlasting. So valuable was salt in ancient Rome that soldiers were paid with it as others might be paid with silver or gold. The word salary comes from the Latin word sal, meaning salt.    If you get a cut in your salary it probably means that you’re not ‘worth your salt.’ 

The light of the world, is another attempt to explain how powerful we really are, if we only reach down and turn on the switch. As of this weekend,  the majority of the 30,000 households  left without power by Storm Chandra will have had their power restored. They had been cut off from the energy supply normally available to us all. The Gospel this morning is telling us that we might all be in the same situation: the power available to us is being left dormant. We haven’t switched on the light.

About a hundred years ago, in 1923 in fact, a young engineer from Drogheda called Thomas McLaughlin returned to Ireland after a period working with Siemens in Berlin and studying hydroelectric schemes throughout Europe. He proposed damming the River Shannon and building an electric power station at Ardnacrusha. We owe a debt to such visionaries and to those who raised the million utility poles that brought power to the homes and farms of rural Ireland.

The electrification of Ireland was always on a voluntary basis. You could freely choose to participate in this new kind of energy and many refused the offer because they did not believe in it or because they could not afford it. What better way to explain the huge gift on offer in terms of Divine energy: The choice is yours, it is up to you. There is a secret subway that provides access to an alternative energy. It introduces you to a co-pilot who takes all the worry out of navigation, who is as canny as a sherpa, and who never intervenes unless invited to do so. This person is polite, imaginative, personable, sympathetic, patient, self-effacing, practical, and will disappear at the slightest hint of disapproval. 

There is a great deal of discussion today about the surest, cleanest, cheapest, least toxic, most reliable energy in our world. Harnessing power is a major preoccupation for a world that wants to spin. The human race has used its ingenuity to a maximum in this regard. From the first discovery of fire through flint, to the hectic story of the Twentieth Century plundering expensive energy from an ever diminishing supply of fossil fuels, we have come to the more recently discovered uranium fuel. One pellet creates as much energy as a ton of coal or 17,000 cubic feet of natural gas. None of these sources of energy is as potent as the power of the Holy Spirit blowing everywhere in our world. But we, as human beings, have to harness this power; otherwise it blows where it will. You can become a generator if ‘you fan into flame the gift of God which is in you’[2 Timothy, 1:6]. “If you have faith even as small as a mustard seed, as one uranium pellet, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” [Matthew 17:20]. Ardnacrusha in Irish árd na croise means the height of the cross, that 2,000 year old utility pole, raised up in Jesus Christ to hold us aloft in the Holy Spirit.