Feature
Raking the Fire Kevin O’Rourke SJ, assistant director of novices at the Jesuit novitiate in Birmingham, reflects on his childhood experience of school, and of the comforting turf fires that for him act as a metaphor for memory. My first school had only one classroom. My father had the big boys and girls at one end, and Mrs McCormack had the little ones at the other end. Probably no more than fifty or sixty in total. A turf fire burned at each end, making the place cosy and comfortable. Then came the ‘new school’ with two classrooms, each with its own turf fire. We didn’t have to bring sods of turf to school, because a load would be delivered from the Bog of Allen in September. At the end of the day, one of us would be given the job of ‘raking the fire’. That meant putting the still burning pieces of turf into a pile in the centre of the fireplace and covering them with the ashes. The small shovel made a muffled sound as the raking and scraping progressed. Next morning the process would be reversed. The red-hot pieces of turf that survived the night would be separated from the ashes with a tongs, brought together and surrounded by twigs and small pieces of turf. When these caught fire, larger sods would be added and in no time 12
the classroom would be as snug as could be. There is a message for us here as people of faith. Sometimes we might feel lukewarm or even cool in our faith. What once burned brightly and gave comfort, security and warmth, can seem but a memory. More ashes than energy. But there is more to memory than meets the eye. Going down memory lane can be life-giving. Think about looking at old photographs or reminiscing with family members or friends. Something comes alive again. For the Jewish people, to remember is to make something present again. During the celebration of the Feast of Passover, the youngest child in the