if this was NO's attempt at comedy, he should do himself a favour and not give up the day job, if any.
Our Mass Rocks are sacred monuments to the Faith of Ireland.
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Ireland, 1649. The Catholic faith is banned by English invaders, churches are desecrated, then closed. A bounty of ten pounds — twice that of a wolf — is placed on each priest's head. Those captured are hung until nearly dead, their stomachs cut open with cleaving knives, disemboweled while still alive and then beheaded. Finally, their bodies are chopped into four pieces. Anyone found harboring a priest is hanged immediately.
Nevertheless, it is Sunday and you owe an obligation to God that is higher than any to the English government. Arising at midnight, your wife readies the children for the long, chilly walk outdoors. In darkness the family silently marches out the back gate, down the grassy trail toward the mountain and then disappears into the thick green trees.
Before a massive rock, Irish men, women and children kneel on the heather of the hillside. Sentries stand watch on the surrounding mountain peaks for the approach of British troops. A curtain is pulled around an altar built of loose stones but noises come from within as a man and a boy prepare the implements for Mass: book, tablecloth, wine, water, bread. No one can see those behind the sanctuary curtain — and thus could never be forced to identify who offered them the Blessed Sacrament. In the black stillness, a baby's cries are muffled by a soft maternal hand. Then, it is quiet.
"Introibo ad altare Dei," intones the older voice. "Ad deum qui laetificat juventutem meam," replies a younger one.
After the consecration, a line forms quietly behind a protruding rock near the sanctuary curtain. Each takes a turn kneeling on the cold stone, as a voice says, "Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam. Amen." A hand reaches out from behind the veil and places a Communion Host on every tongue.
After the reading of the Last Gospel, most scatter in different directions to escape detection. A few stay behind to have their confessions heard. Afterwards, only a boy and a man remain, hiding any evidence of what occurred. With the man's blessing, the youngster heads off into the woods. Finally, the man, his priest's kit stowed safely under his arm, slips into the forest, disappearing like a thief in the night.
Scattered throughout Ireland, often found hidden deep within lush, green forests in remote mountains, what appear to be ancient open air amphitheaters carved into the mountainside can still be found, and intrepid travelers occasionally stumble across them. At the center of each is a large pile of loose stones resembling a makeshift altar. Frequently, a small box-like structure, looking not unlike a confessional booth, is nearby.
These are no ordinary rustic relics. Rather, they are "Mass Rocks," vestiges of the persecution of Catholics by English Protestants from 1536 to 1829. Here, when the Faith was outlawed and priests hunted down like criminals, Mass was celebrated secretly for the faithful. For several periods in Irish history, it was at these Mass Rocks where the light of the Faith continued to flicker, even unto the darkest of nights.
For Catholics, this is Holy Ground.
http://www.catholicculture.org/culture/library/view.cfm?recnum=6414