An Irish friend recently sent me a newspaper article about Father Michael O’Connor who died a year ago this month in Limerick at the ripe ole age of ninety-four. Father O’Connor was from Tralee in County Kerry and joined the Redemptorist religious order there, being ordained as the Second Vatican Council was getting underway in Rome. A talented writer, his gifts were quickly put to good use as a member of the Redemptorist Publication team. Soon thereafter he was named editor of a Catholic magazine that, under his guidance, became the most popular Catholic publication in the nation. In it, he challenged, or maybe chastised, Irish hierarchy for not implementing many of the Council’s directives. And for that, he was relieved of his duties and exiled from his homeland. That recollection of boldness was at the heart of the article sent to me.
I passed the article around to some of our mutual friends in Kansas City—he came here after (or during) his exile—and then I put the clipping in my recycle bin. On trash day, when the city truck carrying recyclable matter from the neighborhood drove off down our street, a single sheet of paper flew up from the truck and was carried in the breeze for a distance before it landed in the middle of my front yard. It was the article about Father O’Connor. When little incidents like that happen, I sometimes look for a deeper meaning. Not the only piece to ever litter our neighborhood, I wonder if he’s telling me to not forget his message so quickly, or to remember him on his anniversary, or to recall important lessons of the Council, or to not give up the fight, or maybe just to celebrate the Irish.
For now, I’m going with the last option. This weekend, Kansas City will host the 22nd annual Irish Fest at Crown Center. It has become a wonderful Labor Day weekend tradition here where the heart of Ireland is brought to the heart of America. It begins on Friday afternoon and concludes late on Sunday night. It is family focused and music centered with lots of food and drink, lessons in language and dance, genealogy and history, banjo and fiddle workshops, storytellers and spiritual guides, art and shopping, hurling and Gaelic football, comedy and puppet shows, fabulous bands, seminars with Irish leaders, and entertainment beyond your hopes. There you will run into old friends, and you might make a few new ones. The Catholic Mass will be at 9:30 on Sunday morning. Many of our local parishes will host hospitality tents. And The Elders will come out of retirement again to play the final show after the sun sets on Sunday evening.
Thanks go once again to Keli O’Neill Wenzel and her magnificent team of volunteers that make this event come alive each year. Like Irish magic, they mix up a lot of ingredients, starting with hard work and dedicated minds, some big hearts and sentimental souls; they stir in a hefty portion of humor and fun, sprinkle in a bit of harmony and rhythm from deep inside, and they call upon the good spirits of those holy ancestors who sacrificed for our better tomorrow. And somehow it all comes to pass. Father O’Connor is one of those good spirits who will mystically be with us in celebration. I hope to see you at the Irish Fest!
