Soldier turned monk
Mochua was from Achonry in Connaught. His father was Lonan. He became a successful soldier, but at the age of thirty decided to become a monk. His principal foundation was at Timahoe (Teach Mochua = “Mochua’s house”), Co Laois.
His three pets
St. Mochua lived as a hermit without worldly goods except he had three pets – a rooster, a mouse and a fly. The rooster wakened him for the hours of Matins; if he didn’t wake up or dosed off during the day weak from his vigils and prayers, the mouse would nibble at his ear not letting him sleep more than three hours a day or night. The fly would walk along each line of his Psalter as he read it, and when he became tired, the fly would stop at the point where the saint had broken off until he could return again to resume reading the Psalms.
Reputation as a healer
Mochua had a reputation as a healer, and is said to have cured two other abbots – St Colman Elo of a sudden loss of memory and St Fintan Munnu of ‘leprosy’.
Death and influence
St. Mochua is said to have died in the year 657. There is a record of the burning of an oratory of St Mochua there in 919 and the Annals of the Four Masters give details of abbots of Timahoe reflection prosperity. A monastic community existed in Timahoe up to 1650. Today there is a round tower and the ruins of a church to the south-east of the village.
Other Mochuas
Some monasteries in Scotland claim Mochua as their founder, but it is important to note that there are fifty-eight Irish saints with the name of Mochua. The name is associated with places at Celbridge, Co Kildare and Clondalkin, Co Dublin and with Derinish in Co Cavan.
Death
St. Mochua died in the year 657. St. Mochua’s Desk is made out of welded stainless steel, red granite and bronze. The book and the column are made of limestone.
The Little Pets of St. Mochua:
When St. Mochua knelt to pray
Each morning at the break of day
There always was about the house
A rooster, fly and little mouse
Three willing slaves to serve him well
And share his solitary cell
The rooster every morn would crow
And waken him for matins, though
When he slept too sound to hear
The mouse came forth and nipped his ear
And though he never had a clock
The mouse would call him or the clock
And if he had to leave a book
From out some dusty hidden nook
A fly, with patience and with grace
Would sit for hours and mark the place
[John Irvine]