The annual
State 1916 commemoration took place at the Church of the Sacred Heart in Arbour
Hill, Dublin, this morning, Wednesday May 7. Led by President Michael D
Higgins, the event was attended by the Taoiseach, Tánaiste, members of the
Government and Council of State. Also present was Interim Garda Commissioner
Noirín O’Sullivan and Chief Justice Susan Denham and relatives of those who
fought in 1916.
The
commemoration began with Mass for all who died in 1916. There was an
inter–faith ceremony at the graveside of the 14 executed leaders of the 1916
Rising. Among the church leaders reading prayers at the graveside was
Archbishop Michael Jackson.
The
President laid a wreath at the grave after which a minute’s silence was
observed followed by the sounding of The Last Post and the National Anthem.
The Homily
at the Mass was delivered by Bishop Eamonn Walsh. He spoke of the importance of
listening to others in building the country on solid ground. He added: “To listen to each other and the voice within is a good hook on which to build the preparations for the 1916 Centenary and Ireland beyond. To do what deep down we know is right is the “solid
rock” for decision making. That the right thing happens is more important
than getting the credit for it. Rejoicing in others’ success is the way
to a more mature Ireland”.
The Bishop’s Homily is reprod
uced in full below.
Photo Captions:
Top – Archbishop Michael Jackson participates in the interfaith ceremony at the graveside of the 1916 leaders.
Bottom – President Michael D Higgins lays a wreath at the graveside in Arbour Hill cemetery.
Homily of
Bishop Eamonn Walsh at the Annual Mass for all who died in 1916,
Church of
the Sacred Heart, Arbour Hill, Dublin
“That
the right thing happens is more important than getting the credit for it.
Rejoicing in others’ success is the way to a more mature Ireland.” – Bishop Eamonn Walsh
President Higgins, Mrs Sabina Higgins, Lord
Mayor of Dublin, Mr Oisín Quinn, Taoiseach Mr Kenny, Relatives of those who
fought in 1916, Public Representatives and Office Holders, Religious Leaders,
Boys and Girls from Saint Gabriel’s National School, and all gathered here,
warmest greetings and God’s peace.
We are gathered in a faith context to
commemorate all who died in the 1916 Rising. We also remember those who
made sacrifices, suffered lifelong consequences before and beyond on the
journey towards Irish independence. The journey is a continuum; a bit
like the Liffey flowing under Heuston Bridge, known as King’s Bridge until
1966. No one day’s water is the river. In our commemoration we
partly freeze the river in 1916 time to create a context while recognising what
went before and after.
The context in this year’s commemoration is
the Millennium of the Battle of Clontarf; the Centenary of the First World War;
the year of President Higgins’ hugely successful State Visit to Britain; the
preparations for the 1916 Commemorations in two years’ time.
Last month there were many events and
ceremonies commemorating the Battle of Clontarf – not an occasion for the
faint–hearted. World War I was not a pleasant business either.
Orpen’s painting of an Irish Soldier vividly
captures the heavily laden soldier thinking of what lies ahead; family at home.
Will he see them again? Will it help Home Rule? Thoughts ocean deep.
People like Thomas Kettle, who joined the
newly formed Irish Volunteers, was sent to Europe to raise arms where he
witnessed the outbreak of war and acted as a war correspondent. On his return
he continued to advocate Home Rule. He later died serving with the Dublin
Fusiliers in September 1916. His sacrifices and those of his fellows were
not honoured by many. F.X. Martin spoke of them being victims of the “National
Amnesia”. Four days before he died Thomas Kettle wrote the poem; “To My
Daughter Betty, The Gift of God” …
You’ll ask why I abandoned you, my own,
And the dear heart that was your baby throne,
To dice with death. And oh! They give you
rhyme
And reason: some will call the thing sublime,
And some decry it in a knowing tone.
So here, while the mad guns curse overhead,
And tired men sigh with mud for couch and
floor,
Know that we fools, now with the foolish
dead,
Died not for Flag, nor King, nor Emperor,
But for a dream, born in a herdsman’s shed,
And for the secret Scripture of the poor.
Another picture of World War I is put before
us in Siegfried Sassoon’s poem – “They” written in May 1917 in which the bishop
is duly mocked.
The Bishop tells us: “When our boys come back
They will not be the same; for they’ll have
fought
In a just cause: they lead the last attack
On Anti–Christ; their comrades’ blood has
bought
New right to breed an honourable race,
They have challenged Death and dared him face
to face.”
“We’re none of us the same!” the boys reply
For George lost both his legs; and Bill’s
stone blind;
Poor Jim’s shot through the lungs and like to
die;
And Bert’s gone syphilitic; you’ll not find
A chap who’s served that hasn’t found some
change.”
And the Bishop said: “The ways of God are
strange’.
The ways of war are very distant from the
desired ways of God; a long way away from the Beatitudes. Conflict will
always be with us as Archbishop Michael Jackson reminded this gathering last
year when he said; ”Too often we have lived with the mirage of a better
future beyond conflict…conflict is part of our nature”. How to resolve
it in a civilised way has been the challenge from the beginning of time.
Standing in the shoes of others is a good start.
Back to World War I and 1916: the
Parliamentarian, John Dillon, happened to be in his home on North Great George’s
Street for the 1916 Rising, and experienced at first hand the mood on the
streets of Dublin. He would stand also in the shoes of the
Parliamentarians immersed in a World War and furious with the ‘Irish Rebellion’
when Britain’s Army could best be occupied elsewhere – the Somme was about to
begin. They saw it as a stab in the back not to be tolerated.
Dillon could see years of progress being undone by over reactive repression and
executions.
Lyons in his biography of Dillon, outlines
Dillon’s address in Parliament where he argued that; “in the interest of
peace and good government in Ireland, it is vitally important that the
Government should make immediately a full statement of their intentions as to
the continuance of executions in that country carried out as a result of secret
military trials, and as to the continuance of martial law, military rule and
the searches and wholesale arrests now going on in various districts of the
country”.
He went on to say – “the primary object of my
motion is to put an absolute stop to the executions.”
He accused the British authorities of “letting
loose a river of blood and make no mistake about it, between the two races who
after 300 years of hatred and strife, we had nearly succeeded in bringing
together”…
His emotions ran even higher when he recalled
the case of a young boy of 14 who was brought in as a prisoner and the officer
looked at him: “What on earth am I going to do with you?” The boy said to
him “Shoot me, I have killed three of your soldiers”. Dillon went on to
say: “That may horrify you, but I declare most solemnly, and I am not ashamed
to say it in the House of Commons, that I am proud of these men. They
were foolish, they were misled.” To which the Honourable members of the
House chanted “Shame”.
His speech had little effect. Further
executions took place the next day, including Connolly who was too ill to stand
and was shot while sitting in a chair.
These illustrations, frozen in time, help
situate the 1916 commemorations in context. A lot of water and blood has
flown under Heuston Bridge before and since. “River Ireland” of today and
beyond is largely in our hands.
Legitimate anger such as Dillon’s serves as
an illustration that in all conflict both sides must be heard and even more
important, experience that they have been heard. Audi alteram partem is a basic rule in resolving any issue be it in
a family squabble or on the international stage.
To build our country on solid ground we have
to respectfully listen especially to those who may irritate us most. Not
easy! From experience we know that the longer a voice is suppressed the
stronger the force and resentment that will accompany it when it eventually
explodes and has to be heard.
To enable us to listen with a heart of flesh
rather than a heart of stone, it can be helpful to listen in silence each day
to the voice within. For people of faith this is letting God speak to the
heart; taking daily quiet time saying, “speak Lord, your servant is listening”.
Reflective living can be different for
different people. Regardless of traditions, faith, dormant faith or none,
there is always a voice of conscience within. Listening to that voice is
part of wholesome listening.
“Everyone then who hears these words of mine
and does them will be like a wise person who built his house on rock”. (Matt
7:25).
“Unless the Lord builds the house those who
build it labour in vain”. (Psalm 127).
To listen to each other and the voice within
is a good hook on which to build the preparations for the 1916 Centenary and
Ireland beyond.
To do what deep down we know is right is the “solid
rock” for decision making. That the right thing happens is more important
than getting the credit for it. Rejoicing in others’ success is the way
to a more mature Ireland. Often “name, claim and tame” are more
productive than “name, blame and shame”. Deep listening helps in naming
the issues to be tackled together; claiming joint responsibility for tackling
them; and taming the obstacles on the journey.
Perfection, like a conflict free world, is a
mirage for now. It is more sensible to move on together, warts and all, and
with a healthy sense of humour.
Let us leave behind the ‘old Irish lobster’:
The Englishman observing an Irishman carrying his freshly caught lobsters in a
shallow bucket said: “You need a deeper bucket otherwise they will escape!” “No”,
said the Irish fisherman – “these are Irish lobsters; as soon as one gets near
the top of the bucket the others will pull it down”. Let us build the
future of our country on encouraging each other to play our part; rejoicing in
each other’s successes in this task, and treating the most vulnerable as any
genuine family would. That is the rock on which to build for the present and
beyond.