At prayer time every morning in November, the "sonorous" month of our beloved Celtic philosopher, John O'Donoghue, we remember the souls of our loved ones, whose spirits, according to John and his "Cara", Meister Eckhart, are all around us.
The children bring in memoriam cards of their departed family members and friends, and place them on the windowsill around the big, white candle.
For sheer magnetism and magic in the classroom, you can't beat the humble candle. There is the ritual of lighting it, the hypnotic effect of the dancing flame, the colour and the movement of it, and the sad, sombre quenching of it. It is the simplest, most gripping, most efficacious way of explaining the great mysteries of life and death. For children it has a healthy, wholesome fascination.
I sometimes think that the symbolism of the lighting of it, which is the domain of the teacher, and the "blowing out", which belongs singularly to the pupils, is subconsciously understood by them, and is seen as analogous to the Great Hierarch of Life.
Meanwhile, at coffee break, our thoughts have moved from Christian to Celtic matters. Our beloved priomhe oide is worshiping the moon from his chambre a coucher, shall we say. Let me elaborate. Because of domestic aggrandisements, he is temporarily bereft of blinds and drapes in his marriage chamber, and by a happy coincidence the moon in this neck of the woods is full and bright and round, and so alluring, that, en famille he has been following her movements, until overtaken by sleep.
How romantic. Talking of things lunar reminds us of our oldest astronaut, John Glenn, who went off into space at the ripe old age of 77. We wonder if, when we notch that up on our calendars, we too will be nostalgic for our little space-ship of education, which is our classroom. But then we remember that this is November, month of dead leaves and visits to the cemetery and singing of mournful hymns, so we dare not be so optimistic.
Suffice it to say that we will stay in orbit, steadfast as the moon, and look forward to the changing of the guard, the changing of the sad, pale November candle to the lively, jolly red Christmas one.
mysteries of life and death. For children it has a healthy, wholesome fascination.
I sometimes think that the symbolism of the lighting of it, which is the domain of the teacher, and the "blowing out", which belongs singularly to the pupils, is subconsciously understood by them, and is seen as analogous to the Great Hierarch of Life.
Meanwhile, at coffee break, out thoughts have moved from Christian to Celtic matters. Our beloved priomhe oide is worshipping the
