Welcome, Fáilte - Diocese of Cloyne

Light a Candle at St Colman's from 1 Dec 2024

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Welcome

Fáilte, Welcome

to the website for the Catholic Diocese of Cloyne, Ireland

Bishop William Crean

31 March 2026

Three additional dates added for Child Safeguarding Training in the Diocese of Cloyne

Monday 13th April 7pm - 8:30pm - Midleton Pastoral Centre

Wednesday 15th April 7pm - 8:30pm - Scoil Naomh Padraig, Mill Rd, Kanturk

Thursday 16th April 7pm - 8:30pm - Macroom Parish Centre

Booking is essential, please contact Rosarie O'Riordan This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

Safeguarding

03 March 2026

Carrigtwohill Parish Pilgrimage to Fatima 7th - 14th September 2026

Spiritual Director: Fr. Patrick Winkle

Direct return flights from Cork to Faro, with Bus to and from Fatima included
Full Board - breakfast, lunch and dinner each day
7 nights Hotel Steyler
Limited number of places
€1045 (single supplement extra) - limited single rooms, insurance is also extra
20kg baggage included with Aer Lingus flight.
Guided tours and full spiritual programme

Please make enquires to Fr. Patrick Winkle 021-4882439 or Joe Walsh Tours 021-2427190 or 01-2410800
Or book direct online with Joe Walsh Tours

2026 CARRIGTWOHILL PATRICK WINKLE 07 SEP CORK FARO Fatima Pilgrimage 2026

16 February 2026

Baptised and Sent - Lenten programme in Macroom

This Lent, parishes, schools and groups across Ireland are invited to journey together through a set of reflective resources inspired by Baptised and Sent which is the preparatory document for the 2025 National Pre-Synodal Assembly in Kilkenny

Grounded in the conviction that baptism is the foundation of our identity, dignity and mission, these resources help us return to the heart of Christian life: being reborn in Christ and sent out by the Spirit in service of the Gospel

You are warmly invited to join with us each Monday evening during lent in St. Colman’s Church Parish Centre, Macroom from 7pm to 8pm

Each weeks’ Lectio Divina, offers us an opportunity to reflect on the upcoming Sunday Gospel, which is prayerfully linked to key insights from Baptised and Sent.

Facilitated by Bill Kelly

St Colman's Macroom

04 February 2026

Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimages 2026

The Annual Lourdes Mass - Friday 13th February 2026

Church of the Immaculate Conception, Kanturk, P51 TY36 at 7.30pm
Bishop William Crean will be the Chief Celebrant of the Mass

Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimage to Knock - Sunday 10th May 2026

Parishes to make their own travel arrangements

Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimage to Lourdes 29th May – 3rd June 2026

All bookings for the Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimage to Lourdes should be made through Joe Walsh Tours by telephone 01-2410800, online at Joe Walsh Tours or by post to 89 Harcourt Street, Dublin 2, D02WY88. No booking is definite until a non-refundable deposit payment of €350 per person (plus insurance premium where applicable) has been receipted by Joe Walsh Tours. Early booking advisable.

Pilgrims who would like to travel with the Special Assisted Section should apply to: Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimage to Lourdes, c/o Parish Secretary, 27/28 Bank Place, Mallow, Co. Cork. Tel: 022-20276. This special assisted/sick section is accommodated at the Accueil Notre Dame. Acceptance for travel with the special section for the sick is subject to approval of the Pilgrimage Medical Board. The closing date for receipt of application is 31 March 2026.

Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimage to Lourdes 29th May - 3rd June 2026

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Latest Homily

1 Apr 2026 - Joyful Fidelity

Latest Articles

March 2026
- Child Safeguarding Training
- Fatima Pilgrimage 2026 - Carrigtwohill Parish
February 2026
- Baptised and Sent - Lenten programme in Macroom
- Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimages 2026
October 2025
- Bishop Crean meets Pope Leo
September 2025
- "Behold I'm doing a new thing" says the Lord (Isaiah 43)
February 2025
- Recent picture of St. Colman's Cathedral, Cobh. Co. Cork
October 2024
- Light a Candle at St. Colman's Cathedral

Coram Fratribus

Maundy Thursday

2 Mos 12.1-14: Dere må ha sko på føttene og stav i hånd.
1 Kor 11.23-26: Gjør dette til minne om meg.
Joh 13.1-15: Så heller han vann i et fat og vasker disiplenes føtter.
To sterke bilder preger lesningene i kveld. Read More

Coram Fratribus

Chrism Mass

Isaiah 61.1-9: The Lord God has anointed me.
Apocalypse 1.5-8: He has made of us a priestly people.
Luke 4.16-21: Today this scripture has been fulfilled.
The New Testament’s proclamation of the mystery of Jesus builds on the Old Testament. The Evangelists — Read More

Coram Fratribus

Palm Sunday

Isaiah 50.4-7: The Lord has opened my ear.
Philippians 2.6-11: Put on the mind of Christ.
Matthew 26.14-66: ‘Crucify him!’
The liturgy for Holy Week is like a play in which we are at once spectators and actors. We follow Jesus day by Read More

Coram Fratribus

Maundy Thursday 2 Mos 12.1-14: Dere må ha sko på føttene og stav i hånd.
1 Kor 11.23-26: Gjør dette til minne om meg.
Joh 13.1-15: Så heller han vann i et fat og vasker disiplenes føtter.
To sterke bilder preger lesningene i kveld. Først har vi bildet av det opprinnelige påskemåltid. Israelittene står på frihetens terskel. Endelig kan de bryte sine lenker og begi seg hjem. Folket har, på dét tidspunkt, bodd i Egypt i 430 år (2 Mos 12.40). Det er lang tid. Tenker vi, her, 430 år tilbake, kommer vi til 1596. Da ble Christian IV kronet til konge over Danmark-Norge, kalt ‘Tvillingriket’. Han regjerte i seksti år. Vi husker Kong Christian Kvart etter byer han grunnla eller gjenoppbygde, særlig Christiana, dagens Oslo. Men hvor mange av oss har klare forestillinger om Norge på den tiden? Å bygge en fremtidsvisjon på noe som var for 430 år siden, er risikofylt. Trelldommen i Egypt hadde vært fæl, men den stod i det minste for noe velkjent. Oppbruddet, dét betød utvandring inn i noe aldeles ukjent.
Vi kan tenke oss spenningen og angsten som omsluttet folket da det første påskelam ble slaktet. Det skjedde i påvente av et stort skrik ‘som det ikke har vært maken til og heller ikke mer skal bli’ (2 Mos 11.6). Skriket runget gjennom Egypt da landets førstefødte, i samme natt, omkom. Lammets blod bevarte Israels barn, men skriket vil ha gått dem gjennom marg og ben. Det var logisk at lammet ble spist raskt. ‘Det er Herrens påske!’, blir folket fortalt: selve måltidet representerer avgang og overgang. Det første påskemåltid var ingen atmosfærisk samling rundt et pent dekket bord med levende lys. Det skulle gulpes ned mens folk stod ferdig kledd, med stav i hånd og sko på føttene, rede til å sette avsted inn i uvissa.
Det andre bildet lesningene gir oss, byr på stor kontrast. Jesu Påskemåltid med de Tolv skjer i rolige former. Disiplene sendes ut i god tid for å gjøre alt i stand i en hensiktsmessig sal, utstyrt med benker og puter. Evangelistene påpeker at Jesus selv hadde planlagt de praktiske sidene ved måltidet på forhånd (jfr. Mk 14.14ff.). Ellers i Jerusalem bruser det. Byen er stinn av pilegrimer — til påske ble befolkningen mangedoblet. Judas svirrer rundt etter forhandlinger med den høye geistlighet; yppersteprestene på sin side mobiliserer en ‘stor hop med sverd og stokker’ (Mt 26.47). Slik vil de få has på Jesus i en offentlig aksjon. Rundt omkring ham selv hersker imidlertid ettertenksom fred. Det er slående, viktig å bemerke.
Påskemåltidet inntas i etapper. Jesus og disiplene vil, som vi, ha mintes den paradigmatiske påsken i Egypt. Deretter spiser og drikker de. De fører en fortrolig samtale. Til slutt synger de en lovsang. Den fastlagte, rituelle rammen berikes og forvandles av to nye handlinger Jesus innfører: nattverden og fotvaskingen. Begge har utømmelig innhold. Begge har vært gjenstand for lærd og from betraktning i snart to tusen år. Litteraturen som finnes om begge er helt uoverskuelig.
Jeg vil få begrense meg til å peke på ett enkelt, tilsynelatende banalt, men egentlig vesentlig poeng. Mens påsken i Egypt står for oppbrudd, står Jesu påske i Jerusalem for ankomst. Israelittene satte avsted mot ødemarken på søken etter en Gud mange hadde glemt, hvis navn de først nylig var blitt kjent med, takket være åpenbaringen til Moses ute ved den brennende busk. Jesus, hvis navn, betrodd til Maria, betyr ‘Gud frelser’, har over tid forklart disiplene, som utgjør hans bordfellesskap: ‘Jeg er Sannheten og Livet; dere trenger ikke lete mer; bli bare hos meg.’ I nattverden innstifter han et mystisk nærvær, en form for presens hvor Gud alltid, like til verdens ende, vil være å finne. I fotvaskingen gir han et uttrykk for den selvutøsende kjærlighet som karakteriserer Gud. ‘Hva jeg har gjort for dere’, sier han, ‘skal også dere gjøre.’ Menneskets edleste higen går ikke på å bli sjef. Ved å tjene, lærer hva det vil si å leve kjærlig utover oss selv, strukket mot et høyere mål, ubegrenset av selv-sentrert ambisjon, åpnet mot en evig horisont.
Ved den første påske ble folket bedt om å spise lammet med sko på føttene. Jesu påske byr oss ta skoene av. I Bibelens univers, tar man sko av seg når man står på hellig grunn, slik Moses gjorde ved Horeb da Gud lot ham vite: ‘Jeg er den her Nærværende’ (2 Mos 3.14). Men man tar også sine sko av seg når man kommer hjem eller ankommer et sted hvor man er en ventet gjest. Da Magdalena bragte sin alabaster inn i fariseerens hus og verten ville drive henne ut, sa Jesus: ‘Jeg kom inn i ditt hus, du gav meg ikke vann for mine føtter’ (Lk 7.44). Fariseeren hadde ikke budt ham noe blivende sted; det gjorde isteden synderinnen.
Til oss alle sier Herren i dag, på Skjærtorsdag: ‘Ta nå endelig skoene av. Din ferd er slutt. Du er hjemme. Bli hos meg; jeg vil leve i deg.’ I Eukaristien finner vi en stabilitet som omslutter oss om så stjernene faller fra himmelen, falske profeter florerer og rovfugler svever over jordens åtsel (jfr. Mt 24). Det skal vi huske i disse usikre tider. I Brød og Vin, mens våre føtter vaskes og vi hilses, ‘Velkommen hjem!’, møter vi den forvandlende kraft som fredelig overvinner verden. Amen.

Coram Fratribus

Philanthropy It’s about time the Netherlands Bach Society was awarded an international prize for services rendered to mankind. What they have produced – and made available for free – these past few years is astonishing, truly an enterprise of philanthropy. I have watched and listened to Jos van Veldhoven’s production of the St John Passion with keen attention. It touches perfection, not just for its musical excellence, but for its dramatic intelligence. Raphael Höhn is a compelling evangelist. He really knows how to tell a story. And I am not sure I’ve ever heard Ach, mein Sinn, the lament following Peter’s betrayal, sung with greater intensity than that displayed here by Gwilym Bowen. By deliberate casting, almost all performers are under 35, which serves not merely to energise the performance but to make it topical. Because we’re so used, now, to thinking Christianity old and the Church tired, we risk forgetting how young most of the drama’s protagonists were. This performance has helped me to rethink many things and to experience essentials afresh.

Coram Fratribus

Chrism Mass Isaiah 61.1-9: The Lord God has anointed me.
Apocalypse 1.5-8: He has made of us a priestly people.
Luke 4.16-21: Today this scripture has been fulfilled.
The New Testament’s proclamation of the mystery of Jesus builds on the Old Testament. The Evangelists — not to mention Paul — consistently wish to show that the promises God gave through patriarchs and prophets are accomplished in the Son of Mary. This gives rise to the rich resonances we find, for example, in the motif of Emmanuel (recalling the promise to King Ahaz), in the Holy Family’s journey to Egypt (recalling the drama of the exodus), in the donkey of Palm Sunday (recalling the prophecy of Zechariah). Only by going deep into the Old Testament can we really appreciate the beauty, fascination, and depth of the New. In the second century, in Rome, a theologian called Marcion argued that Christians have no use for the Old Testament: ‘No’, he said, ‘the Gospel is enough!’ Rightly he was declared a heretic. The Gospel can’t be understood without the Hebrew Bible, which Christians must learn to know, revere, and love.
The language and imagery of Jesus are soaked in Old Testament culture.
Yet it is rare to hear him, as today, point towards a specific passage and say: ‘Today this word has been fulfilled’. The word in question, proclaimed by Isaiah, is clearly an important one: ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, the Lord God has anointed me.’ What does it mean when Jesus says he is anointed?
In Israel, anointing was associated with three exalted offices.
When the people, following instructions given on Sinai, had made ready all the equipment they needed for the cult, Aaron and his sons were, out in the wilderness, anointed as priests. ‘You shall sanctify them’, God told Moses (Ex 30.30). To be sanctified is to be set apart for a divine purpose. A priest is no longer his own. His whole being is consecrated to serve the reconciliation of the people and the glory of God. He is to become one with the sacrifice he raises up.
When Israel, settled in Canaan, sought a stable political structure, their first king was anointed. Samuel poured oil over Saul’s head and said: ‘Has not the Lord anointed you prince over his inheritance, Israel?’ (1 Sam 10.1). These words are carefully chosen. Israel is God’s inheritance. Saul is anointed as the Lord’s lieutenant, not as an omnipotent monarch. When Saul forgets this and starts getting bolshy, he is deposed. To be anointed king, biblically speaking, is not to be loaded with privilege; it is to receive immense responsibility for others.
Still later, prophets are anointed. Elijah is told: ‘You shall anoint Elisha to be prophet in your place’ (1 Kings 19.16). People often think a prophet is one who predicts the future. This may be one spect of his ministry, true enough; but it is not primary. A biblical prophet is anointed to see and speak clearly, enabled to interpret the present moment in the light of God’s eternal truth. His task is to teach people what is truly going on here and now. If occasionally he is given a glimpse of the future, it is to show others where they are bound.
So when Jesus says: ‘The Lord God has anointed me’, he implicitly declares himself Priest, King, Prophet. He has come as the bearer of healing, freedom, and justice. He inaugurates ‘a year of grace’. In its context ‘guilt’ is not a purely calculable thing. He bids us create a society based on fraternity, not on cynical transactions.
Baptism incorporates us into Christ’s Body. It makes every single Christian priest, king, and prophet (Lumen Gentium 31). All of us are called to serve as an instrument of reconciliation, to watch over the Lord’s inheritance, to be clear-sighted witnesses to justice and truth. The oil of gladness has been poured out upon us. It makes our lives vibrate with exultancy.
At the same time a Christian is acquainted with grief. At Lauds this morning the liturgy put into our mouths these words: ‘My soul is sorrowful unto death’. By this cry, uttered in Gethsemani (Mt 26.38), Christ grieved over the fact that the world did not want to receive the grace he had come to confer. God tells the world: ‘Choose life!’ The world retorts: ‘Death!’ Indeed, as we are reminded during these solemn days, the world even tries to put God himself to death.
This tension between joy and pain pierces the priest’s heart in a special way. At ordination the priest’s existence is sealed with the sign of the cross. He is a man set apart to serve God’s purpose in the world. Once for all he has declared that God may make use of him, until death, exactly as he pleases. He has accepted the tremendous task of acting in the person of Christ (Lumen Gentium 10). This is especially evident when, at the altar, he offers up the sacrifice of reconciliation, Christ’s Body and Blood. But the altar is to configure his person, too.
During this Chrism Mass, we who without merit of our own have, in the name of Jesus and by his power, been ordained to serve the sanctification of God’s people, restate our wish to be conformed to Christ through self-denial. We renew our promise of fidelity. We reconsecrate ourselves to grace and truth so that Jesus, the Head and Chief Shepherd of the Church, may act and make himself visible in our poverty. This we do gladly, amazed that God chooses to make use of us, filling our days with praise. From experience we can testify that God makes the weak strong. We testify that God can fill a human life entirely, making its darkness bright, imbuing its trials with peace. The Lord is faithful. If we, too, stay faithful, we have nothing to fear, even face to face with the threats of our time. For let us not forget: our time, too, our strange, menacing time, can become a year of grace.
In Christ’s name!
Amen.
A priest’s hands are anointed during the rite of ordination.

Coram Fratribus

Palm Sunday Isaiah 50.4-7: The Lord has opened my ear.
Philippians 2.6-11: Put on the mind of Christ.
Matthew 26.14-66: ‘Crucify him!’
The liturgy for Holy Week is like a play in which we are at once spectators and actors. We follow Jesus day by day, then hour by hour, through the last lap of his earthly life, from he enters Jerusalem surrounded by Hosannas until he is raised up on the Cross, where cosmic silence precedes the cry: ‘It is accomplished!’
Nothing binds us together more as Church than celebrating these days together. Here, in the mystery of Christ’s Pasch, we find the basis for authentic synodality. To walk with Jesus is to say ‘Yes!’ to his Via Dolorosa in order, through the cross and death, to reach freedom and fullness of life.
The Church draws us into the drama of the Passion by simple but effective means. Today’s Mass starts with rejoicing. Forty days have passed since Ash Wednesday. In a way, we’re at the journey’s end. Arrival after a good stretch of solid walking is a joyful business. Any mountaineer knows that.
The chaos that results each year in our atrium when the acolytes pass palm branches round gives a taste of the heady, busy atmosphere in which Jesus made his entry on a donkey — a donkey! — into Jerusalem accompanied by the crowd’s eloquent gestures. One spread his coat on the road. Another waved greenery. All sang. All moved concertedly forward around the mounted, riding One.
It is … fun to take part, like this, when something unusual happens. It is fun to be near the centre of things. With great sincerity, then, we now sing what people sang back then: ‘Honour, praise! You are the king of glory! Hosanna!’
In this way the liturgy touches a vital aspect of our faith: that of enthusiasm. It is right that we, followers of Christ, should let ourselves go a bit now and then, becoming once again like children, yielding to the need unselfconsciously to celebrate something great as part of an enveloping, confident troop. Palm Sunday testifies to unity and to a common goal. We believe in that goal’s triumph!
The Church, like a wise Mother, lets us rejoice a while on these terms. Then she lets us consider our enthusiasm from a distance, in retrospect. That is how liturgical space works. Within it, we’re thrown backwards and forwards between past, present, and future, learning what it is like to see life in the light of eternity.
At first sight, it may seem weird that we should be confronted today with the story of the Passion. Doesn’t it break the chronological sequence? The really awful things, after all, only happen on Good Friday. Could we not be allowed, just today, to be merry in the intoxication of hosannas?
This is where we must remember the theatrical aspect of our celebration.
When we go to the theatre to see The Wild Duck, we know how the piece ends. From the moment the curtain rises, we envisage poor Hedvig lying on the attic floor with Grandfather’s smoking pistol in her hand.
To watch classical theatre is different from watching a new Netflix series. What interests us is not what will happen in the end — we know that; what interests us is to see how tension builds, how the tragedy takes shape. A brilliant author, helped by a good director, can portray Fate by putting before our eyes fatal choices made by the dramatis personae along the way, often unwittingly.
The Passion of Palm Sunday puts the spotlight on us who make up the ‘crowd’ around Jesus. As long as he rides majestic and promising, we gather round him, shout Hoorah, and are glad to designate him king. But when he is accused, reviled, humiliated? Then there is no ‘crowd’ any more, only a gang of individuals showing their teeth. The voices that a while ago sang, ‘Blessed be he!’, now cry, ‘Crucify!’. People turn into a pack of wolves; and one wolf is quite happy to eat another once they have howled together for a while.
This tendency is deep in us. The first fruit of original sin was fratricide. Only by striking Abel down, Cain thought, could he become somebody. Scripture, and history, show us repeatedly how occasions to step on another, some designated object of disdain, can turn into corporate madness, be the object guilty of misdemeanours or not.
Here in our country, where we like to think of ourselves as paragons of peaceful order, we have seen some primitive expressions of these dynamics in the way our crown princess has recently been dragged through the mud. That people in high public office are answerable for choices they have made which redound on the nation is a matter of course. But if the nation, thereby, turns into a huddle of snarling dogs, it puts itself in a doubtful light.
I mention this precise example to make a spiritual point: the weather-cock-like shiftiness that leads to Jesus’s crucifixion, turning truth-seeking into blood-thirst, is alive in my heart, perhaps in yours also.
What do we do about it?
In the Saint Matthew Passion, Bach intersperses a chorale when the Twelve, at the Last Supper, after hearing Jesus’s words, ‘One of you will betray me’, ask: ‘Is it me?’ The text of the chorale exclaims, on behalf of us all, quite as in the chorus of an ancient Greek tragedy: ‘It is I! I should do penance!’.
Yes, I am the traitor. I have all it takes. But I don’t want to betray anymore. I want to pay what I owe, be renewed, learn what it is to be faithful.
Holy Week makes an eternal drama almost insufferably concrete.
We must decide afresh: which side am I really on? That of blessing or that of a curse, that of pardon or that of condemnation, that of life or that of death?
‘Abide with me’, says Jesus: ‘Watch with me’. Yes, that’s what we must do.
Lord Jesus, surrender us not to our weakness! Let our part in your chalice reform our life, and the world’s.
Amen.
German fifteenth-century relief, now in the The Metropolitan Museum.

Coram Fratribus

Tordis Ørjasæter In her last book, published in 2024, Tordis Ørjasæter noted a childhood remembrance her husband Jo had shared from his native Gudbrandsdalen. Once, when he went to visit ‘one of the aunts on the farm, who lay dying, she bade him farewell with the words: ‘Welcome to my funeral!” What a beautiful and touching thing that even death can be an occasion to show hospitality. Yesterday, on her ninety-ninth birthday, Tordis died. It is natural, then, to evoke this motif. She was a wonderfully hospitable, generous woman. I met her first on a veranda in Assisi long ago. It was a gift to be offered her friendship, which was easy to cultivate. Quite as a matter of course we could, each time we met, pick up the thread from our last conversation. A real scholar, she had her wits about her till the end. If one needed to trace a reference in Undset, one got an immediate answer, always given with the joy of passing on knowledge that is precious and dear. The fact that her fine biography of Sigrid Undset has not been translated into English is one of life’s mysteries. Tordis was curious about eternity. Now she sees. May her memory be eternal!

#HolyThursday, Christ redeemed us all and gave perfect glory to God principally through His Paschal mystery: dying He destroyed our death and rising He restored our life. #HolyWeek2026 ✝ 1 Likes

Posted: 3 hours ago

Please join us in St. Colman’s Cathedral, Cobh tonight Wednesday at 7.30pm for our Diocesan Chrism Mass or online https://cobhcathedralparish.ie/mass-streaming/ 8 Likes

Posted: Yesterday

Joint Holy Week and Easter 2026 message by Archbishops of Archbishop Eamon Martin and Archbisho....

Joint Holy Week and Easter 2026 message by Archbishops of #Armagh Archbishop Eamon Martin and Archbishop John McDowell: ‘Peace be with you’
To read more click ⬇️
catholicbishops.ie/2026/03/29/joi… 2 Likes

Posted: 4 days ago

...’So they took palm branches off the palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, Hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the King of Israel!’.
#palmsunday🌿 7 Likes

Posted: 4 days ago

Photos from Cloyne Diocese's post Today, March 25th, we celebrate the Solemnity of the Annunciation.
The Solemnity of the Annunciation celebrates the coming of the Angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary to announce to her the special mission God had chosen for her in being Read More 12 Likes

Posted: Last week

Child Safeguarding Training

Three additional dates added for Child Safeguarding Training in the Diocese of Cloyne

Fatima Pilgrimage 2026 - Carrigtwohill Parish

Carrigtwohill Parish Pilgrimage to Fatima 7th - 14th September 2026

Baptised and Sent - Lenten programme in Macroom

Baptised and Sent - Lenten programme in Macroom

Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimages 2026

Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimages 2026

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