Aug 17, 2022 - Dublin, Ireland

As part of my Sabbatical leave and project was to learn about food insecurities in other countries.  I haven’t been as successful at this as I’d wanted to be - it has taken somewhat of a different direction.  In Spain, I was able to volunteer at the Madrid Food Bank and find out some statistics/practices of how Madrid handles food insecurities.  While I was in London and in a couple of places in France, I found other avenues where non-profit organizations and even businesses were dealing with homelessness, food insecurities, and general inequality in a variety of ways - from a coffee company, a number of coffeehouses and cafes, and even a food truck.  I’ll spend some time working on a whole post just about this later on.  But, in Dublin on Monday, I got a chance to volunteer at a Community Center of the Capuchin Mission.  They asked me not to take any photos inside, but one of the volunteers allowed me to photograph her from across the street as she greeted those coming inside.  It’s a little staged, but I’m glad I got at least one photo.  Most of the men and women who come to the free luncheon, served 7 days a week, is that they are both homeless and addicts of various types and in various stages of addiction.  I was told repeatedly that “We do not judge.  We simply provide food, a place of rest for a couple of hours, and when we can - help.  Sometimes that comes as just a listening ear, or finding resources for recovery, job searches, housing, etc…. We don’t force anyone to do something that they aren’t ready for.  We’re just here.  And when they’re ready, they know they can ask.”  Although I loved the sentiment of this, I wondered if, perhaps, it was too “passive”.  In my opinion, sometimes people don’t even know what to ask for, how to ask, or even where to start.  During my very short time there, I did find very compassionate hearts who were always willing to listen to some pretty corny jokes (although I didn’t get most of them - perhaps it was due to Irish or local humor) and anything else, no matter how outlandish it was.  I watched and observed one person talk to a volunteer about having wrestled a seahorse the night before.  The volunteer listened in rapped astonishment, but never once showed signs of unbelief.  

I was supposed to meet with Brother Irwin, but he only had time to introduce himself before being whisked off to deal with something else and I never saw him again that afternoon.

While I found poor people panhandling for money in nearly every city, Dublin seems to have a large portion of homeless and food insecure people.

It was rather odd to go from that experience to a Whiskey tour at Jameson’s, but that’s what I did.  I had done a Scotch Whiskey tour in Edinburgh, so this was nearly the same.  Except, I saw this near the Jameson Brewery and I’m going to put this out there in the ether… we need this on top of one of the coke chimney’s in Pittsburgh.  You might need to zoom in, but it’s an observation tower on top of the old brewery chimney.  I can just picture it down at the Waterfront on top of one of the coke chimney towers.  Wouldn’t that be cool?

After tasting some whiskey (I’m still more of a wine person, but my horizons have been expanded to ciders, beer, champagne, whiskey, scotch, and bourbon) I stopped at a local park that had a variety of interesting musical instruments that you could try.

For dinner I went to a church that had been turned into a restaurant/bar with live entertainment.

I had another serving of Irish Stew.  Sometimes, I think that is all the Irish know how to cook.  It’s always on EVERY menu.  And it’s usually rather bland - like Pot Roast in a slow cooker.

On Tuesday morning, I got up extra early and got on a tour to the Cliffs of Moher.  I was supposed to have gone way back in June when I first came to Ireland.  After visiting Killarney, I had planned to go to Galway and stay a few days with a tour of the Cliffs of Moher from there.  I fell in love with Killarney so much that I canceled my trip to Galway and therefore also my tour of the Cliffs of Moher.  However, they offered a full day trip from Dublin so I took it.

The weather was spectacular (and, if I remember, it wasn’t in early June), so I got some outstanding photos.

We stopped at the ruins of the Kilmacduagh Monastery, dating back to the 7th Century.  

When I arrived in Dublin back in the beginning of June, I had taken a walking tour of the city and it brought us to Dublin Castle and the Cathedral, but since it was just a walking tour, we didn’t get a chance to go in.  Today, I went inside.  Although the original Castle no longer exists, there is an underground excavation that’s pretty fascinating.  The chapel was only ever used by the Viceroy and on certain occasions by the masses.  It’s beautiful. 

For dinner I had made reservations at Lincoln’s Inn - a spot that I’d read served traditional Irish fare in current ways.  The meal did not live up to its expectations.  However, I’ve come full circle…I learned from my waiter that James Joyce met his wife (Nora) here on their first date in 1904 over a meal.

It doesn’t really matter how good, hip, current, or up-to-date the food is, it’s still an occasion to celebrate life, the people in it, the journey that we are on, and our relationships.

And we normally do that over a meal.  James Joyce had his first date with his wife over a meal at Lincoln’s Inn.  How many of us had our “first dates” at a restaurant, over a meal?  It’s usually where our stories begin, isn’t it?  

At the table is where we open up, slowly remove our masks, and become real with one another.  We might do it sitting on a curb sharing a biscuit, listening to music.  We might do it at a 5 course dinner with small delicious bites that tantalize our tastebuds.  We might do it on a beach or at a vineyard with friends, or at home over chicken, with strangers at a bar, or in a safe place with people who care about us, or at the same Inn (perhaps at the very same table) where an Irish novelist met his wife and they began life together.  

At the table is also the place where we are vulnerable before God in all those church pictures I’ve taken; where countless men, women, and children over the centuries have come to The Table to seek God’s forgiveness, God’s strength, God’s healing, God’s love, God’s reassurance, and God’s blessing.

At the table is where our stories begin and continue - in exotic places abroad and most especially when we get back home.