Fr James (Dominic) McCouaig, O.Carm.

Sermon given at the Requiem Mass by Fr. J. Murray, O.Carm., Prior of Terenure College. January 16, 2002.

Oh behalf of Fr. Jim’s sister, Patricia, his nephew, Brian, his many friends and the Carmelite Community, I welcome you all and thank for joining us in celebrating the Mass of the Resurrection for Fr. Jim.

This morning we gather to give thanks and to celebrate his life and memory. Fr. Jim was an Antrim man, born in Ballycastle. He joined the order in 1944 and was ordained in 1950. So he has given more than half a century of service to the Church, to the Order and to Terenure College.

The Fr. McCouaig that I first met in the 1960s was a tall, wiry figure. He was a reserved man. Orderly, predictable, shy and self-effacing. As a teacher he was organised, compassionate, perceptive, erudite, caring, courteous, well-read – all adjectives one might use in drawing a portrait of him.

He had a highly disciplined approach to work and he saw it as more something to be done than talked about. Terenure College and its landscape were to become central to his life. As Helen Keller said, ‘All that we love deeply becomes part of us’. Terenure was very much part of him. In those early days of my first acquaintance with him, he taught classes all day, took Junior Rugby in the evening, supervised study at night and then looked after the dormitories. In that first year he asked me to stand in for him on four occasions and these were the only four nights in the year that he seemed to be free.

Last night Fr. Griffin reminded you of his success as a trainer of football teams. He also looked after the Tennis teams and of course he founded the Our Lady of Mount Carmel 81^st Scout Unit in 1957. His enthusiasm and flair for organisation, plus his knowledge of the principles and ideals of scouting, made him as obvious choice for such a task.

His interest in his pupils extended to them as past-pupils. With a great sense of occasion and history he chronicled their days at school and never seemed to lose trace of them. He was always glad to meet them and exchange memories and stories. When I succeeded him as principal, for no one could replace him, I sought his advice and he said that the task usually involves a judicious use of the blind eye! For uses of the blind eye in such contexts can prove to be quite visionary!

Despite his sickness in recent years he displayed no self-pity and never lost his enthusiasm for life for he was still too young at heart and restless to retire. He never missed a function or funeral in this church. Towards the end, when he was brittle with exhaustion, his mind still dragged an ailing body to the altar. He took that illness with characteristic dignity. Good manners often masked its symptoms. Like Job, his troubles didn’t make him a saint, but confirmed the goodness that was already there. With James Plunkett he could say:

‘Still I must fight

But now a gleam of hope

Comes to me like a dream.’

As always it was his graciousness that was appealing and as his condition deteriorated he continued to reveal that familiar kindness we all had come to know so well. When I visited him the morning before he died he asked me if there was anything he could do to help. ‘Just rest,’ I said. He laughed and he rested!

We can only see the vision when we stand back. It is then that we can pray with Anne McKenzie:

‘We pray that you will keep faith with us

And we with you,

Holding our hands as we weep,

Giving us strength to continue,

And sowing us beacons along the way,

To becoming new.’

There’s a great spirit gone, whose life was shaped by gestures of care and friendship. So many of us have been touched by the authenticity of his life, by his uncompromising commitment to his calling. We’ll miss the re-assuring presence.

Last night I was handed a cutting from some publication and the extract was obviously written by some past-pupil. It refers to Fr. Eltin and Fr. Jim. Here is a brief extract:

‘Fr. Jim, whose Sunday homily was delivered with a gentle northern burr and in a most economic style where the impact and simplicity of each word was telling and quietly direct.

When men like these have left us and we line up to give our tributes to their memory, it is then too late! Why can’t we tell them now, when they are with us, when our words might give them some support and appreciation in return for the sacrifices and effort on our behalf? We meet exceptional people from time to time through life. Fr. Jim’s quiet sincerity and depth, his self-effacing modesty in the light of all his qualities as a man and a priest, make him truly exceptional’.

As a priest he was one to whom principles were paramount. He was the gospel person, humble, thoughtful and mild. He was much sought after as a confessor and spiritual director. He listened, not just with his ears, but with his heart and so was able to minister to the spiritual and emotional needs of so many people.

Brendan Kennelly’s poem, ‘The Good’ captures many of Fr. Jim’s qualities.

The good are vulnerable

As any bird in flight

They do not think of safety

Are blind to possible extinction

And when most vulnerable

Are most themselves.

The good incline to praise

To have the knack of seeing that

The best is not destroyed

Although forever threatened.

Always, they retain a kind of youth,

The vulnerable grace

Of any bird in flight,

Content to be itself

Accomplished master and potential victim,

Accepting what the earth or heaven intends.

I think that I know one or two

Among my friends’.

Having known Fr. Jim, I can say that I know one among my friends.

I bparrhas na ngrást go raibh sé.