As I write this, I’m battling jet lag after returning from a trip to Ireland.
Like all good journeys, this one comes into focus a little better from a distance. The hurry-up-and-get-on-the-bus, the information overload, the enormous amount of history crammed into a few short days, overwhelms. I simply soaked in everything I could.
Decades ago, I visited Ireland as a young teacher, so when I got home this time I pulled out some old pictures. The faded photos reminded me how much I and Ireland had changed. Back then, you could visit the magnificent Cliffs of Moher and dangle your feet over the edge. It was barren and rugged.
Today, the cliffs have an impressive tourist center, restaurant, and stone walls that prohibit you from venturing off a proscribed path. Membership in the European Union has modernized and regulated Ireland. If you remember the days when you could drive the road up to Denali and not encounter a traffic light and other signs of civilization and capitalism, then you can envision Ireland when it was a bit less developed.
The same goes for the traditional thatched roof. My old pictures from the seventies show a man repairing his thatch, and I noted on the picture’s back that his was one of the few remaining real thatched roofs. Today, they exist for tourism purposes, and the EU has plenty of rules for them, including spraying them with fire retardant.
Since this was a pilgrimage, albeit one with plenty of pubs and Guinness, we had a chance to visit religious sites like Knock, where a Marian apparition took place. We visited a touching site out in the woods where priests in hiding held clandestine Masses during the time of the Penal Laws in the 18th and early 19th century, when the Catholic Church was outlawed by the English.
We had Mass, tea and scones at the Sisters of Mercy International Center in Dublin. As I toured the building and saw the room where foundress Catherine McAuley died, I thought of Sister Arlene Boyd and all the wonderful Mercies who made such an impact on me and on the Archdiocese of Anchorage.
Ireland is often called the land of saints and scholars. So true, and yet, we must add “and sinners.” When I visited Ireland in the 1970s, the sexual abuse scandal was still several years away from exposure. Likewise, the Magdalene Laundries hadn’t been publicized. These were institutions where girls deemed immoral, perhaps because of unwed pregnancy, or even homelessness or flirtation, were made to work, virtually imprisoned, sometimes for decades. Sadly, these homes were run by religious orders of sisters.
It was a different era. Ireland was a virtual Catholic theocracy; on the one hand, obsessed by sexual sins, and on the other hand, turning a blind eye to the sexual sins of many clergy. Lest we find ourselves too judgmental, remember that our U.S. church suffered from the same plague.
Due to these scandals and the growing secularization of the West, Mass attendance in Ireland is down and the old strictures have been largely erased. At the hotel in Dublin, we Americans, used to scantily clad teenagers, nevertheless dropped our jaws at the outfits we saw on a group of young girls.
In Romans, Paul speaks of “the glorious liberty of the children of God.” It’s great to see a free and more transparent Ireland. Free will is our great gift from God. We pray that all of us use it wisely and for the glory of God.
'Ireland has changed, pray for her'
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