A Legend of St Brendan the Navigator

In Ireland, today is the feast of a sainted monk named Brendan, who is traditionally said to have been born in Clonfert in the year 484, and to have died in 577 at the age of 94. He is sometimes called “the Younger” to distinguish him from another Brendan, of Birr, or “the Elder.” They were both disciples of St Finnian, the founder of one of the first abbeys in the country, Clonard, and belong to the group known as the Twelve Apostles of Ireland for their labors in the evangelizing the Emerald Isle. As with many of the early Irish Saints, the traditional stories of his life are regarded as historically unreliable. The most famous of these is that he and a group of companions sailed out into the Atlantic Ocean searched for “the Promised Land of the Saints,” or the Garden of Eden, and has given him the nickname by which he is more generally known, “the Navigator.” The account of the ensuing adventures, known as “The Voyage of St Brendan”, was very popular, and over 100 manuscripts of it survive.

The Voyage of St Brendan, 1908, by the British painter Edward Reginald Frampton (1870-1923). This depicts another rather improbable episode in the story of St Brendan’s travels, in which he encounters Judas Iscariot on a deserted island, and the latter explains to him that on Sundays and major feast days, he is granted a temporary reprieve from the torments of hell. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

One of the stories in this account (chapter 10 and 11) involves a stop on an island which turns out to be a very unusual place indeed.

“… Now that island was rocky, and without any grass; there was a thin forest there, and no sand on the shore. But as the brothers passed the night in prayers and vigils off the ship, the man of God (i.e. Brendan) remained within it.

… In the morning, he commanded the priests that they should each sing Mass, and so they did. Therefore, when Saint Brendan himself had sung Mass in the ship, the brothers began to bring raw meat out of the ship to cure it with salt, and also the fish which they had brought with them from the other island. When they had done these things, they set a pot upon a fire, and when they had added wood to the fire and the pot began to grow hot, the island began to move itself like a wave. But the brothers began to run to the ship praying for the holy father’s protection. But he drew each one of them in by the hand, and leaving behind all of the things which they had brought onto that island, they began to sail.

Now the island was being carried out into the ocean … and Saint Brendan explained to the brothers what this was, saying, “Brothers, are you astonished at what this island did?” They said, “We are very much astonished, and the greatest fear has taken hold of us.” And he said to them, “My sons, do not be afraid, for God has revealed to me this night through a vision the mystery of this matter. It was not an island where we were, but a fish. Greater than all the things that swim in the ocean, it is always looking for its own tail so that it may join it to its head, and it cannot because it is so long, and its name is Jasconius.”

St Brendan watches from the boat as one of the priests in his group of travel companions says Mass on the back of the sea monster. (Engraving by Honorius Philoponus, 1621)

Review of Monastery and High Cross: The Forgotten Eastern Roots of Irish Christianity

The Faddan More Psalter

If you want to read a book full of historical and liturgical surprises, pick up a copy of Connie Marshner’s 2024 Monastery and High Cross: The Forgotten Eastern Roots of Irish Christianity (Sopia Institute Press).

We have always known that St. Patrick was sent to Ireland by the Pope, not to bring the Gospel to the Emerald Isle for the first time but to tend a Christian flock already there (of course, he also did a great deal of evangelizing once he arrived). But the question still remains: who were these pre-Patrick Christians?

Marshner’s book, which is an expansion of her Masters thesis in Gaelic literature, provides an answer. The volume opens with the tale of an astonishing discovery. In 2006, an Irishman was digging up peat when he came upon a leather-covered book. The Faddan More Psalter, as it is now known, was written about AD 800. The content (the Psalms) are in Latin text of the Vulgate, the script is Gaelic, but the cover is distinctively Egyptian in style—and, inside the cover were fragments of papyrus!

If the thesis of Monastery and High Cross is correct, then we can consider the Faddan More Psalter a metaphor for early Irish Christianity as a whole: a mixture of Continental, local, and—most surprisingly, Middle Eastern elements. That mixture, incidentally, remained in Ireland until the Anglo-Norman invasion in the twelfth century, which was begun partially on the pretext of bringing the Irish Church more into line with the practices of Rome.

To understand the forgotten Eastern roots of Irish Christianity, let us begin by outlining some of the differences between the Faith in Ireland and on the Continent. The early Irish Church celebrated Easter on a different date; it did not have daily private Mass; it practiced antiphonal singing long before the rest of the West adopted the practice; it was more monastic than diocesan (in part because diocesan headquarters are typically in cities and Ireland had none until the Vikings forced their way in); Irish churches, some of which had an iconostasis (!), were so small that only the priest and his ministers were inside for the Mass while the deacon and congregation were outside; Irish monasteries were more eremitical (hermit-like) than cenobitic (communal); Irish art was unlike any other in Europe; and scholarship, knowledge of the Greek language, and Marian devotion were more advanced in Ireland than anywhere else in the West.

Not your typical Western monastic dwelling: the beehive cells of Skellig Michael, Ireland

Adding to this picture are puzzling artifacts. Besides the Faddan More Psalter, Irish archeologists have discovered objects from Egypt, North Africa, and the Byzantine Empire, including the skull of a Barbary ape. It is also curious that Celtic Crosses frequently depict St. Antony and St. Paul the Hermit, the founders of the Desert Fathers in Egypt, and that there is a fourth-century inscription in County Cork that reads “Pray for Olan the Egyptian”—recall that St. Patrick did not arrive in Ireland as a missionary until 432. We also have Irish manuscripts that contain texts found nowhere else except parts of the Middle East. And there is a Chi Rho monogram carved into a stone in northeast Ireland that is of the same design as that found in second-century Coptic and Armenian sources.

The stone on which is inscribed in Ogham (the earliest form of Irish writing), “Pray for Olan the Egyptian”

All this evidence points to an Eastern influence in general and a Coptic influence in particular, so much so that one of Marshner’s chapter sections is entitled, “The Nile Flows into the Shannon.” Celtic art, like we see in the seventh-century Book of Kells, has elements in common with fifth and sixth-century Coptic manuscripts, including curvilinear interlacing around letters, red dots, and fish or dolphins bearing a cross. The Book was also illuminated with color dyes from around the world, including lapis lazuli from Afghanistan.

From the Book of Kells

Ireland’s famous High Crosses are a particularly interesting example of Eastern influence. The pre-Christian Irish did not cut stone or carve stone, let alone use stone for monumental statuary. But from the seventh to the twelfth century, Celtic Crosses became common in Ireland, western Scotland, and even parts of France, where Irish missionaries were active.

The Celtic Cross of Monsterboice

The crosses are an amalgamation of different Eastern practices. The very idea of having a stone sculpture came from Armenia: the Byzantine Empire did not have a tradition of sculpture, and in the West the practice died out with the fall of the Roman Empire in AD 476. The only Christian nation that had stone sculptures was Armenia, and apparently this easternmost fringe of the former empire shared its tastes with the westernmost fringe.

Chrismal with stauroteca

Celtic Crosses are distinctive because of the circle that surrounds the intersection of the arms. The pattern is most likely from Jerusalem. Pilgrims took home with them chrismals from the Holy City, small vessels that could contain chrism oil or even the Precious Blood. Some of these were in the shape of a cross with a stauroteca, a star-studded shield in the middle containing a portrait of Christ. A fifth or sixth-century Egyptian textile depicts this shield significantly enlarged—in other words, a Celtic cross (see below).

As for the carved markings, what is on the cross is significant as well as what is not on it. What is on it, as previously mentioned, are Desert Father Saints such as Antony and Paul the Hermit. Also included are typically Eastern choices, such as the Alpha and Omega and biblical scenes prefiguring the Crucifixion: Daniel in the lion’s den and the three youths placed in the fiery furnace. And what is not on these crosses is the Lamb of God, for the Byzantine Empire had outlawed depictions of Christ as a lamb.

Escape from persecution was probably the main motive for this Hiberno-Coptic connection. We know that orthodox priests and monks fled Egypt during the reign of Arian Emperors and later during the reign of Julian the Apostate (361-363), who denounced ascetics. They also fled en masse after the Islamic Arab conquest of Egypt in 642. It is quite possible that Ireland was one of several destinations for these periodic waves of refugees. We also know that Armenian clerics dwelt in Ireland for a while in the 600s and that the ninth-century Litany of Pilgrim Saints speaks of “seven monks of Egypt in the desert of Ulster.” Although there is no historical corroboration of this claim, it was enough to inspire the Coptic Orthodox Church to found a Seven Coptic Monks Church in Galway a couple of decades ago.

To compose Monastery and High Cross, Connie Marshner drew from an impressive array of scholarship, but her prose is not exactly that of a typical scholar:

“You might be saying to yourself at this point, ‘Connie, are you crazy? Aren’t we talking about the Dark Ages when nobody went anywhere more than five miles from where they were born? Isn’t it ridiculous to think penniless monks went thousands of miles from home?’ To which I say, ‘Hang on to your hat!’” (46).

The book also has useful call-outs on different topics, but they sometimes contain irrelevant digressions. After describing Andrew Ekonomou’s Byzantine Rome and the Greek Popes, she adds that Ekonomou has a “more varied biography than most academics: a former state prosecutor in Georgia, he is senior counsel at the American Center for Law and Justice” (25). Good for Ekonomou, but how does this contribute to my understanding of Catholic Ireland?

For a book with so many discussions about individual artifacts, I was surprised that it did not contain any illustrations or images. Monastery and the High Cross would have been greatly enriched by photographs, for as they say, each is worth a thousand words. Marshner has subtitled her work the “forgotten Eastern roots of Irish Christianity,” but it would be more accurate to call it “the neglected roots.” As Marshner’s own footnotes attest, scholars have known for at least a century that the East influenced Celtic Christianity. Monastery and High Cross does not so much propose a brand-new thesis as assemble a series of theses and corroborate them with recent findings like that of the Faddan More Psalter.

Nor does the volume present a tidy picture of Eastern influence, either with respect to how it came to be or what was being shared. We do know not always know, for example, whether the path was indirect—from the East, through Mozarabic Spain or Gallican France, to Ireland—or direct. And if it was direct, we do not always know the origin country: Egypt, Syria, Armenia, etc. Monastery and High Cross successfully makes its case that Celtic Christianity has Eastern roots, but it leaves us with more questions than answers. It is Marshner’s hope that her book “may pique the interest of future scholars who will be able to do more justice to the topic” (xiii), and mine too.

This review originally appeared in The Latin Mass magazine 35:1 (Spring 2026), pp. 58-59. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

The “Prophecies” of St Malachy

In Ireland, today is the feast of St Malachy, one of the great ecclesiastical reformers of the 12th century. He served for a time as Primate of Ireland in the very ancient See of Armagh, established by St Patrick himself, but later resigned that office, and ended his life as bishop of Down. The revised Butler’s Lives of the Saints sums up his career by likening him to St Theodore of Canterbury, who lived half a millennium before him, and gave a permanent form to the organization of the Church in England. His feast is also kept by various congregations of canons regular, since the reform movement of which he was such an important figure was very much concerned with restoring discipline to the lives of such congregations, and cathedral canons as well. He was a close personal friend of St Bernard, and actually died in his arms after a brief illness while visiting Clairvaux Abbey, on All Souls’ Day of 1148. Bernard was so convinced of Malachy’s sanctity that when celebrating his funeral, he sang the Post-Communion prayer of a Confessor Bishop instead of that of the Requiem Mass; he later wrote his biography, and for these reasons, the Cistercians also have Malachy on their calendar. Bernard’s judgment was formally confirmed by Pope Clement III in 1190; Ireland had, of course, a great many Saints before then, but Malachy was the very first to be formally recognized as such by a Pope.

A statue of St Malachy on the outside of Armagh Cathedral. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Andreas F. Borchert, CC BY-SA 4.0)

It is a pity that a man who fully deserves to be honored alongside his contemporaries like Ss Bernard and Norbert as a great Church reformer is now known principally as the putative author of a manifestly fraudulent series of “prophecies” about the Popes. In a happier world, the fact that Bernard says nothing about them would suffice to discredit them utterly. They consist of brief phrases in Latin which purportedly tell something about the men who will be elected Pope, from the Saint’s contemporary Celestine II (who reigned for less than 5½ months in 1143-44) to “Peter the Roman,” 111 Popes later. They were first brought to the attention of the world in 1595 by a Benedictine monk named Arnold de Wion, who attributed them to St Malachy without saying on what grounds, and indeed, without saying where they came from. It was not until 1871 that a French priest named Cucherat claimed, on the basis of no known evidence, that Malachy had delivered them to Celestine II’s predecessor, Innocent II, while visiting Rome to fetch the pallia of the two Irish metropolitans. They were then deposited in the Papal archives, and somehow completely forgotten for about 450 years. 

The general opinion of those who have studied the matter is that they were concocted to sway the conclave held in late 1590 after the sudden death of Urban VII, who was Pope for only 13 days, the shortest reign in Papal history. From Celestine II to Urban VII, they are extremely and obviously accurate, usually referring to the Popes’ family names. For example, before his election to the Papacy, Celestine II was called Guido de Castello, since he was from a town in Umbria called Città di Castello, which is on the Tiber river; the first “prophecy” is “de castello Tiberis - from the castle of the Tiber.” Starting in 1590, however, they become as vague as the so-called prophecies of another 16th century luminary in the field, Nostradamus. Pius VIII (1829-30), for example, corresponds to “vir religiosus - a religious man” (we should hope so!), and Pius XII to “pastor angelicus - an angelic shepherd.” Others are manifestly incorrect, such as Clement XIII (1758-69), a Venetian nobleman who corresponds to “Rose of Umbria.” This has given rise to some very embarrassing and convoluted explanations of how the “prophecies” fit their respective Popes. Clement XIII canonized one Franciscan, Joseph of Cupertino, and beatified two others, and the Franciscan Order was founded by an Umbrian...

It is certainly true that some of the purported prophecies do correspond plausibly in one way or another to their respective Popes, as they inevitably must, given their vagueness. Pope Leo XIII (1878-1903) corresponds to “lumen in caelo - a light in heaven”, which may be seen as a reference to the comet in his coat-of-arms, and six Popes later, “flos florum - flower of flowers” may be seen as a reference to the fleurs-de-lys (an extremely common heraldic device) in the arms of Paul VI.

The Papal coat-of-arms of Pope Leo XIII

The tradition of taking a different name on election to the Papacy is sometimes said to have begun with John II in 533, who was previously called Mercury, and changed his name because he felt it was unseemly for a Pope to have the name of a pagan god. In point of fact, this was an anomaly, and would not happen again for almost half a millennium, when one “Peter Pig-mouth” (Pietro Bocca di Porco) was elected in 1009, and, deeming it inappropriate to be called “Peter II”, changed his name to Sergius IV.

What really established the tradition was the great reform movement that began in the mid-11th century, in which St Malachy would be so prominent. Starting in 1046, the Popes began reviving the names of their ancient and sainted predecessors such as Clement, Damasus, and Victor, as a sign that after the long decadence of the later-9th to mid-11th centuries, the Papacy was now returning to the glorious ages of the past. From 1046 to 1145, thirteen of the eighteen Popes were “second of that name”, followed by eight “thirds” out of eleven from 1145 to 1227. (The last Pope to keep his baptismal name, Marcellus II, died in 1555 on the 22nd day of his reign, sealing the custom with just a little bit of superstitious fear.) But of course, no Pope has ever chosen the name of St Peter, and there is a rather superstitious tradition that the last Pope will be the Anti-Christ, and call himself Peter.

The Preaching of the Anti-Christ, 1499-1502, by Luca Signorelli (1441 ca. - 1523); in the chapel of St Brice in the cathedral of Orvieto, Italy (1499-1502). The Anti-Christ is the figure on the podium slightly to the right of the lower middle, with the devil whispering in his ear; working in an era that hung less on every word and whim of the Pope than our own, Signorelli shows him with facial features like those of Christ, but distorted, since he is the anti-Christ, not the anti-Pope.

This is also reflected in (and perhaps arises from) the supposed “prophecies” of St Malachy, the last of which is “Peter the Roman”, qualified as follows: “In the last persecution of the Holy Roman Church, there will sit Peter the Roman, who will pasture his sheep in many tribulations; and these being finished, the city of seven hills will be destroyed, and the dreadful judge will judge his people.” However, the so-called prophecy does not say that there will be no Popes between “Peter the Roman”, which corresponds to Pope Francis (whose baptismal name is George, and whose family is from the north of Italy, not Rome), and the penultimate entry on the list. Therefore, when the current Papacy ends, if the world does not end as well, and Francis’ successor is elected, we will be left in the dark for the future... or rather, just as much in the dark as we have been all along.

Irish Musings on the Rebirth of the Traditional Mass

Several people have brought this to my attention in the last couple of days, a beautiful reminiscence posted on Reddit about the collapse of religious practice in Ireland, and the writer’s reversion at a very young age through the discovery of the traditional Mass. (The New Pentecost™ has been especially harsh in Ireland; I recently read that in this past year, more bishops were ordained there than priests.) In accordance with the standards of fair use, here are a few excerpts. If the author should chance to read this: I would be very glad to repost your lovely piece in full, with your permission. If you are amenable to this, please contact me at gdipippo@newliturgicalmovement.org.

“I can only describe the Ireland I was born into with the cliché that the past is a different country. As a baby of the nineties, I caught the last breaths of ‘Catholic Ireland’. I remember the dread and spite at being awakened each Sunday for Mass. You had to arrive half an hour before Mass to hope to get a seat and then endure the boredom of ‘Shine Jesus Shine’ and corny jokes from Father Trendy in the pulpit. ...

When I was nine, something strange happened. ... one Sunday I appeared in the kitchen dressed for Mass only to be told to change and go outside and play. I cannot express the joy I had at that moment. It was like a snow day off school and I quickly joined about half my friends whose families had also stopped going to church. I would have sang halleluias to God for getting out of that despised rite if I had believed in him.

On the Feast of the Immaculate Conception 2002, we went to Dublin, as we always did, to do our Christmas Shopping. ... I hated, and continue to hate, shopping with such zealotry that my Mother would allow me to wander the city’s museums and churches unattended knowing me to be wary and sensible, while she got to shopping in nearby shops. Whilst she browsed the stalls, I popped into an old, run-down, church. I always lit a candle on Immaculate Conception for my grandmother since it was her birthday and, as an 11 year old boy, playing with fire was really only acceptable if you were lighting candles for your granny.

I walked in and there I saw my first traditional Mass.

I had no idea what was going on, I had no inkling that it was even a Mass but I was in complete enchantment. Somehow, in the midst of the dust and the damp, and the spattering of grannies with headscarves and lace doilies, and the elderly man who croaked Latin chant alone in the loft above me, I knew God existed and was there in that spotless host that the old priest touched with such awe, such respect and love.”

From a post in December of 2016, an Irish priest of the Institute of Christ the King offering his first Mass at the church of St Kevin in Dublin.

The “Prophecies” of St Malachy

In Ireland, today is the feast of St Malachy, one of the great ecclesiastical reformers of the 12th century. He served for a time as Primate of Ireland in the very ancient See of Armagh, established by St Patrick himself, but later resigned that office, and ended his life as bishop of Down. The revised Butler’s Lives of the Saints sums up his career by likening him to St Theodore of Canterbury, who lived half a millennium before him, and gave a permanent form to the organization of the Church in England. His feast is also kept by various congregations of canons regular, since the reform movement of which he was such an important figure was very much concerned with restoring discipline to the lives of such congregations, and cathedral canons as well. He was a close personal friend of St Bernard, and actually died in his arms after a brief illness while visiting Clairvaux Abbey, on All Souls’ Day of 1148. Bernard was so convinced of Malachy’s sanctity that when celebrating his funeral, he sang the Post-Communion prayer of a Confessor Bishop instead of that of the Requiem Mass; he later wrote his biography, and for these reasons, the Cistercians also have Malachy on their calendar. Bernard’s judgment was formally confirmed by Pope Clement III in 1190; Ireland had, of course, a great many Saints before then, but Malachy was the very first to be formally recognized as such by a Pope.

A statue of St Malachy on the outside of Armagh Cathedral. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Andreas F. Borchert, CC BY-SA 4.0)

It is a pity that a man who fully deserves to be honored alongside his contemporaries like Ss Bernard and Norbert as a great Church reformer is now known principally as the putative author of a manifestly fraudulent series of “prophecies” about the Popes. In a happier world, the fact that Bernard says nothing about them would suffice to discredit them utterly. They consist of brief phrases in Latin which purportedly tell something about the men who will be elected Pope, from the Saint’s contemporary Celestine II (who reigned for less than 5½ months in 1143-44) to “Peter the Roman,” 111 Popes later. They were first brought to the attention of the world in 1595 by a Benedictine monk named Arnold de Wion, who attributed them to St Malachy without saying on what grounds, and indeed, without saying where they came from. It was not until 1871 that a French priest named Cucherat claimed, on the basis of no known evidence, that Malachy had delivered them to Celestine II’s predecessor, Innocent II, while visiting Rome to fetch the pallia of the two Irish metropolitans. They were then deposited in the Papal archives, and somehow completely forgotten for about 450 years. 

The general opinion of those who have studied the matter is that they were concocted to sway the conclave held in late 1590 after the sudden death of Urban VII, who was Pope for only 13 days, the shortest reign in Papal history. From Celestine II to Urban VII, they are extremely and obviously accurate, usually referring to the Popes’ family names. For example, before his election to the Papacy, Celestine II was called Guido de Castello, since he was from a town in Umbria called Città di Castello, which is on the Tiber river; the first “prophecy” is “de castello Tiberis - from the castle of the Tiber.” Starting in 1590, however, they become as vague as the so-called prophecies of another 16th century luminary in the field, Nostradamus. Pius VIII (1829-30), for example, corresponds to “vir religiosus - a religious man” (we should hope so!), and Pius XII to “pastor angelicus - an angelic shepherd.” Others are manifestly incorrect, such as Clement XIII (1758-69), a Venetian nobleman who corresponds to “Rose of Umbria.” This has given rise to some very embarrassing and convoluted explanations of how the “prophecies” fit their respective Popes. Clement XIII canonized one Franciscan, Joseph of Cupertino, and beatified two others, and the Franciscan Order was founded by an Umbrian...

It is certainly true that some of the purported prophecies do correspond plausibly in one way or another to their respective Popes, as they inevitably must, given their vagueness. Pope Leo XIII (1878-1903) corresponds to “lumen in caelo - a light in heaven”, which may be seen as a reference to the comet in his coat-of-arms, and six Popes later, “flos florum - flower of flowers” may be seen as a reference to the fleurs-de-lys (an extremely common heraldic device) in the arms of Paul VI.

The Papal coat-of-arms of Pope Leo XIII

The tradition of taking a different name on election to the Papacy is sometimes said to have begun with John II in 533, who was previously called Mercury, and changed his name because he felt it was unseemly for a Pope to have the name of a pagan god. In point of fact, this was an anomaly, and would not happen again for almost half a millennium, when one “Peter Pig-mouth” (Pietro Bocca di Porco) was elected in 1009, and, deeming it inappropriate to be called “Peter II”, changed his name to Sergius IV.

What really established the tradition was the great reform movement that began in the mid-11th century, in which St Malachy would be so prominent. Starting in 1046, the Popes began reviving the names of their ancient and sainted predecessors such as Clement, Damasus, and Victor, as a sign that after the long decadence of the later-9th to mid-11th centuries, the Papacy was now returning to the glorious ages of the past. From 1046 to 1145, thirteen of the eighteen Popes were “second of that name”, followed by eight “thirds” out of eleven from 1145 to 1227. (The last Pope to keep his baptismal name, Marcellus II, died in 1555 on the 22nd day of his reign, sealing the custom with just a little bit of superstitious fear.) But of course, no Pope has ever chosen the name of St Peter, and there is a rather superstitious tradition that the last Pope will be the Anti-Christ, and call himself Peter.

The Preaching of the Anti-Christ, 1499-1502, by Luca Signorelli (1441 ca. - 1523); in the chapel of St Brice in the cathedral of Orvieto, Italy (1499-1502). The Anti-Christ is the figure on the podium slightly to the right of the lower middle, with the devil whispering in his ear; working in an era that hung less on every word and whim of the Pope than our own, Signorelli shows him with facial features like those of Christ, but distorted, since he is the anti-Christ, not the anti-Pope.

This is also reflected in (and perhaps arises from) the supposed “prophecies” of St Malachy, the last of which is “Peter the Roman”, qualified as follows: “In the last persecution of the Holy Roman Church, there will sit Peter the Roman, who will pasture his sheep in many tribulations; and these being finished, the city of seven hills will be destroyed, and the dreadful judge will judge his people.” However, the so-called prophecy does not say that there will be no Popes between “Peter the Roman”, which corresponds to Pope Francis (whose baptismal name is George, and whose family is from the north of Italy, not Rome), and the penultimate entry on the list. Therefore, when the current Papacy ends, if the world does not end as well, and Francis’ successor is elected, we will be left in the dark for the future... or rather, just as much in the dark as we have been all along.

A Glimpse into Catholic Life in Ireland in the Early Sixties

Some weeks ago, a priest friend alerted me to the online archives of Radharc, “one of Ireland’s most important independent documentary production companies,” founded in 1959 and the producer of “over 400 documentaries which were screened on RTÉ, Ireland’s national broadcaster, between 1961 and 1996.” My correspondent was particularly interested in the short films made from 1961 to 1966, with two priests, Fr Peter Dunn and Fr Desmond Forristal, as the hosts. It should be noted—and this is a matter of surprise especially for Americans—that it did  not seem strange in any way for a public film project to be run by priests and to center so closely on religious and cultural matters (which were often the same).

Several of these films would be fascinating to NLM readers, so I shall comment on my favorites. There are many more worth exploring at the Irish Film Institute Radharc archive. (As the videos are not on YouTube, only still shots can be inserted here.)

The New Ritual

For an absolutely fascinating glimpse into Catholic life at the time of the opening of the Second Vatican Council, watch the seven-minute film from 1962 about “The New Ritual.” “New,” at this time, refers to the Tridentine sacramental rites done partly in Latin and partly in English. The film speaks as if this modest step is a sufficient response to modern needs.

As regular readers will know, I’m opposed to having so much vernacular in the traditional rites of the Church of Rome, but no one can deny that if what the video shows had been the only step taken towards liturgical reform, the faithful wouldn’t have been thrown into disarray and there would be a great deal more peace and unity in the Church today. The traditional movement as we know it would not exist were it not for the flagrant overreaching of the Consilium and the accompanying absolutism of Paul VI.

Most interesting to me is the interview at the end with an Irish liturgist who says: “Some people want the Foremass [Mass of Catechumens] in English, but the rest of the Mass—especially the Canon, the heart of the Mass—will remain in Latin.” He seems quite sincere in his assertion. How many, at this time, could have imagined what would be happening only a few short years later? (On this point, I recommend William Riccio’s fine article “Back to the Future? No Thanks, I’ve Been There,” in which he recounts, inter alia: “We were told the Canon, that most untranslatable prayer, would never be in the vernacular because it is too steeped in meaning. In 1967, it was put in the vernacular.”)

Sick Calls

This four-minute video was made in 1962, when the traditional rite of the sacrament of extreme unction was still being used by everyone. Today it is used by communities like the FSSP and the ICRSS, and, I would suppose, by individual diocesan priests who are familiar with it.

What a remarkable glimpse into how sick calls used to be done — and, please God, how they can and should still be done today!

Blessing the Airplane Fleet

Made in 1962, this film tells the viewer about Aer Lingus, Ireland’s national airline. Each plane is named after an Irish saint—and after showing us lots of examples, the film gives a quick history of Irish missionaries of old. (As far as I know, the Aer Lingus airplanes have retained their saint names to the present.) We get a tour of the primitive instrumentation panel of a Boeing. We see a priest blessing the fleet with holy water, and a Sunday Mass conducted in the hangar. We get to see the prayer card (I’m not kidding) that used to be included in every seat of an Aer Lingus plane, and a view of nuns wearing habits one would never see today.

In general, the people flying on the planes as well as those seeing them off are dressed impeccably. One would not have dreamed of going out in public any other way.

The Village with the Most Vocations

Another remarkable film concerns a village in rural Ireland that had a long history of high numbers of priestly and religious vocations. A fascinating glimpse into Irish village life in 1962: there’s not even a hint of the collapse that would come later.

All the explanations given about why this village’s vocations flourished are quite similar to the reasons we might give today for the greater number of vocations among traditional Catholics: hard-working family life, the family Rosary, the cheerfulness of the sisters, and a relatively simple life. The sisters don’t put pressure on the girls; certainly no “vocations office,” “discernment retreats,” or baby-faced agents.

The sisters depicted in this 1962 film left for good in 2016, after 151 years. Seduced by the “spirit of the Council,” they had become “Eucharistic ministers” and Lord only knows what else. Corruptio optimi pessima.

People often say to traditionalists: “If Catholicism was so great before the Council, why did it fall apart so quickly?” And I reply: “How well do you know yourself? There but for the grace of God go I…” We don't have to pretend that there were no problems before the Council (and Ireland surely had its problems too) to know that things were a far sight better than they were afterwards, when the spirit of rebellion had taken hold and churchmen couldn't throw off the shackles of commandments, customs, and cultural heritage quickly enough. Things can fall apart rapidly when we let fallen human nature take the driver’s seat. Look at the history of Israel, God’s chosen people. Look at the Church in various periods of her checkered history. It’s not as if we should be shocked. Greatness is a daily moral and spiritual conquest, and it can fall to pieces in a matter of years, months, even days. These objectors might as well pose their question to Our Lord: “If you are the Son of God, why did one of your Apostles betray you, and the others run away?” It was not the fault of Our Lord; and neither was the (post)conciliar apostasy the fault of the Catholic tradition built up over the ages by the Holy Spirit, sent to the God-loving disciples in the one and only Pentecost of the Church, which lasts until the end of the ages.

New ICKSP Church in Belfast, N. Ireland

This past Wednesday, the Institute of Christ the King celebrated the opening of a new permanent home for its apostolate in Belfast, Northern Ireland, a very nice neo-Gothic building, hitherto known as the “Fortwilliam and Macrory Presbyterian Church”, which they were recently able to acquire, and have now dedicated to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. The Prior General of the Institute, Mons. Gilles Wach, celebrated the inaugural solemn Mass in the presence of the local ordinary, His Excellency Noel Treanor, Bishop of Down and Connor. The Twitter feed of BBC Newsline posted a story about the opening Mass. (It is nice to be able to say that the opening line of the copy, “Few Catholics now remember when Mass was said in Latin” is inaccurate, and getting more so every day.) Our thanks to Canon Wulfran Lebocq for sharing these photos with us, and our best wishes for the continued flourishing of the apostolate.

The bishop imposes and blesses incense for the Gospel.

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Irish Juventutem Chapter Celebrates FIJ Anniversary

Our thanks to Mr Peter O’Riordan for sending us this account of a Mass recently organized by the Juventutem chapter of Cork, Ireland.

On May 24th, Juventutem Corcaigh (Cork) celebrated a Missa cantata at Kilcrea Friary, Ovens, Co. Cork, Ireland, in conjunction with celebrations held by Juventutem chapters around the world to mark the 15th anniversary of the foundation of Fœderatio Internationalis Juventutem (FIJ).

Kilcrea Friary is located near Ovens, Co. Cork, in an isolated area south of the river Bride. The name Kilcrea means the Church of Cré, a woman who founded a hermitage here before the time of the Franciscians. The friary is a fine example of an Irish Franciscian monastery, and much of it survives in good condition. The church features a fine, slender tower, which was used as a belfry.

The Mass was celebrated by Fr Damien Lynch CC Inniscarra, with the permission of Fr Liam Ó hIcí, the parish priest of Ovens, and we wish to express out deepest gratitude to both. Once permission had been obtained and the celebrant secured, preparations could being in earnest. The event was weather dependent; as can be seen from photographs, it just about held for the duration of the open air Mass.

Firstly, the matter of a suitable altar had to be contended with; Juventutem Corcaigh member Peter O’Riordan set about the task of designing, constructing and dressing the altar, all of which was completed in a timely fashion without the loss of any members - Deo gratias!

Fr Patrick MacCarthy, the parish priest of Ss Peter & Paul’s in Cork, which hosts the annual Fota Liturgical Conference, very kindly supplied many of the accoutrements necessary for a Missa cantata. Joe McGinty, stalwart server at Ss Peter & Paul’s, acted as MC for the mass, carefully navigating unusual obstacles such as gravestones and kerbings.

May 24th is the feast of Our Lady Help of Christians; although this feast is not observed in Ireland, Fr Damien celebrated it as a Votive mass given the occasion. This day is the 13th anniversary of Juventutem’s foundation at Berne, Switzerland in 2006; it was also the first anniversary of a referendum which led to the deletion of the 8th amendment from the Irish constitution. As such the setting in which the Mass took place was rather fitting. Until very recently Ireland was regarded as a ‘Catholic’ country. However, the result of the aforementioned referendum has shown clearly that this is no longer the case.

However, I believe that the small group of faithful that gathered in the ruins of Kilrea Friary to celebrate mass according to the Usus Antiquior represents something significant. Matthew Lavelle, Patrick Williams and Bertrand Thiebault established Juventutem Corcaigh three years ago; since then, the chapter has grown significantly. The aim of the FIJ is to promulgate a Catholic network fostering the sanctification of youth worldwide according to the Roman traditions of the Church. As was sung in the processional hymn on the night, “Christus vincit! Christus regnat! Christus imperat!” Despite the challenges presented by contemporary Irish society, we in Juventutem Corcaigh and those who attend our events have found that “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor might, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

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Ireland’s National Apostasy - A Sermon at Silverstream Priory, Trinity Sunday, 2018

This sermon was preached today by Dom Mark Kirby, O.S.B., at Silverstream Priory.

Ireland's National Apostasy

The Preamble to the Constitution of Ireland. In the Name of the Most Holy Trinity, from Whom is all authority and to Whom, as our final end, all actions both of men and States must be referred, We, the people of Éire, humbly acknowledging all our obligations to our Divine Lord, Jesus Christ, Who sustained our fathers through centuries of trial, gratefully remembering their heroic and unremitting struggle to regain the full independence of our Nation, and seeking to promote the common good with due observance of Prudence, Justice, and Charity, so that the dignity and freedom of the individual may be assured, true social order attained, the unity of our country restored, and concord established with other nations, do hereby adopt, enact, and give ourselves this Constitution.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

On this feast of the Most Holy Trinity, two days after Ireland’s national apostasy from the Holy Catholic Faith, how can we hear the Gospel that was sung just moments ago, and not recall the Constitution that the Irish people gave themselves 80 years ago in 1938? Friday’s vote was not about abortion only; it was about killing Ireland’s soul, about snuffing out all that made Ireland a beacon among the nations, about publicly renouncing all that, from the time that Saint Patrick kindled his blazing fire on the Hill of Slane, made this island home of ours a great welcoming Catholic hearth in a world grown cold and dark. Ireland was, among all the nations on earth, the one that unsparingly sent forth sons and daughters, intrepid in confessing the Holy Trinity, to bring the light of faith to the most far-flung corners of the globe.

And Jesus coming, spoke to them, saying: All power is given to me in heaven and in earth. Going therefore, teach ye all nations; baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. (Matthew 28, 18)

How did we come to this? Among those who voted “Yes” on Friday, the vast number were baptized, and sealed with the sign of the Gift of the Holy Ghost in Confirmation. Some of these would have been confirmed but a few years ago. Among them were people who once knelt at the altar to receive the adorable Body of Christ, formed by the Holy Ghost in the womb of the Virgin Mary, immolated on the Cross, risen from the tomb, ascended into heaven, and returning in glory. Among them are people who, (and I say this with fear and trembling), will dare even to present themselves for Holy Communion today. To these, I can only repeat what the Apostle says:

Whosoever shall eat this bread, or drink the chalice of the Lord unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and of the blood of the Lord. But let a man prove himself: and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of the chalice. For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning the body of the Lord. (1 Corinthians 11, 27–29)

One cannot say that we were not warned. God did send his prophets to Ireland. I think of Frank Duff. I think of Saint John Paul II who, in October 1979, was given a rapturous welcome. Pope Benedict XVI’s Letter to the Catholics of Ireland, written only eight years ago, was prophetic. What became of it? Why was it filed away and not heeded?

There are reports of victory celebrations in Dublin and elsewhere: a satanic crowing, jeers hurled at Our Lord, against His Virgin Mother, and against the Church. The whole climate is eerily reminiscent of France in 1789, of Mexico in 1910, of Russia in 1917, of Germany in 1933, and of Spain in 1936. Even worse than the crowds hell–bent on celebrating the choice of death over life are the complacent lies of those government ministers who, with a smug satisfaction, speak of A New Modern Ireland At Last, an Ireland of compassion, justice, and respect for women. The accent in all such discourses is that of the ancient serpent:

Now the serpent was more subtle than any of the beasts of the earth which the Lord God had made. And he said to the woman: Why hath God commanded you, that you should not eat of every tree of paradise? And the woman answered him, saying: Of the fruit of the trees that are in paradise we do eat: But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of paradise, God hath commanded us that we should not eat; and that we should not touch it, lest perhaps we die. And the serpent said to the woman: No, you shall not die the death. For God doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof, your eyes shall be opened: and you shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil. (Genesis 3, 1–5)

You will forgive me if I repeat today the words of the prophet Ezechiel:

Thou hast played the harlot with the nations among which thou wast defiled with their idols. Thou hast walked in the way of thy sister, and I will give her cup into thy hand. Thus saith the Lord God: Thou shalt drink thy sister’s cup, deep and wide: thou shalt be had in derision and scorn, which containeth very much. Thou shalt be filled with drunkenness, and sorrow: with the cup of grief, and sadness, with the cup of thy sister Samaria. And thou shalt drink it, and shalt drink it up even to the dregs, and thou shalt devour the fragments thereof, thou shalt rend thy breasts: because I have spoken it, saith the Lord God. (Ezechiel 23, 30–34)

What is remains for us? I will tell you what remains:

And now there remain faith, hope, and charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity. (1 Corinthians 13, 13)

Draw near to the altar of the Holy Sacrifice, even as our forefathers drew in around the Mass Rocks. The altar is Ireland’s Divine Hearth. Not for nothing was the altar of the Lamb shown at Knock in 1879. Fall down in adoration and in reparation. Cry out to the Immaculate Mother of God, still Ireland’s Queen and Sorrowful Mother. My own dear father, with all the wisdom of his 91 years, said to me yesterday, “God has a plan. God will have the last word.” And what says Our Lord in today’s Gospel? He says this: “Behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world.” (Matthew 28, 20). In this promise of His, let us rest all our hope.

A Hand-decorated Paschal Candle from Ireland

The decoration of the Paschal candle for 2018 at Silverstream Monastery was the work of the community’s subprior, Dom Benedict Maria Andersen, whose typographical work we have featured before.

Dom Benedict took his inspiration from an authentic Irish penal crucifix in the possession of a friend of the monastery. The penal crucifix, which was loaned to the monastery for all to admire and venerate, dates from the 1700s.

This is a splendid example of the kind of customized work that we need to see flourish once again in local communities, be they religious houses, parishes, or school chapels. It is refreshing and inspiring to see something that is made by hand, made for only one place, and offered up for only one year. Hand-decorated candles are returning slowly, following in the wake of better vestments and works of all sorts in recent years. May the renewal of fine arts in the service of the Church find more and more success.

A Great Report from Irish TV on the Dominicans

The Irish national television network RTÉ posted to their website a few days ago an edition of the program Nationwide which takes a really positive and sympathetic look at the life and vocation of the Dominican friars. Dominican vocations are on the increase in Ireland; it is particularly interesting to note how many of these fellows came into the Order after some time in the world in various professions. One of the Fathers interviewed here, Philip Mulryne, spent some time with the powerhouse English soccer club Manchester United; his entry into the Order in 2009, and his priestly ordination last year in July, made the national news in his country. Another of the Fathers, who now does media work for the Province, was raised in the Netherlands without religion at all, and discovered the Faith, and then later his religious vocation, while visiting Ireland during his engineering studies. We also see a bit of the famous Dominican Salve Regina procession. Definitely something to lift the spirits on a grey January day. (h/t to Fr Lew.)

Here is the link to the video, which can’t be embedded; I found that it would play on Edge, but not on Chrome, so you may also find that it works better on one browser than another.

https://www.rte.ie/player/it/show/nationwide-21/10827425/

Solemn Mass for St Patrick in Dublin

Thanks once again to our friend Mr John Briody for sending in photos from St Kevin’s Church in Dublin, Ireland, home to the Latin Mass Chaplaincy for the Dublin Archdiocese; this time, they are of Mass for yesterday’s feast of the Patron of Ireland, St Patrick. The celebrant is a new priest of the FSSP, Fr. James Mawdsley, a native of England who, before entering seminary, worked as a human-rights activist; for his work on behalf of democratic rule and against the oppression of ethnic minorities, he spent well over a year in a Burmese jail, and was subjected to beatings and torture. Regina Magazine interviewed him last year about his remarkable experiences; he is now assigned to the FSSP Apostolate at St Mary’s in Warrington, England. Our congratulation to Fr Mawdsley and the FSSP! (A reminder that Mr Briody has a large number of photos, of liturgies and other stuff, on his two flickr accounts.)

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Good News from Ireland: TLM in Waterford Cathedral

From the Latin Mass Society of Ireland comes this report of the first Traditional Latin Mass held in the cathedral of Waterford in 50 years. The next one is scheduled for February 26th, Quinquagesima Sunday, at 10 a.m.

“After a 50 year absence the Traditional Latin Mass returned to the oldest cathedral seat of the oldest city in Ireland. With the kind permission of Very Rev. Canon Edmund Cullinan, Adm., the Traditional Roman Catholic Mass was offered in Waterford Cathedral on Sunday 22nd of January at 10 am. The celebrant, Polish priest Fr Andrzej Komorowski, processed in a rather fitting green cope through a respectably filled Cathedral of over 250 people, all eagerly awaiting the Traditional Mass.

It was a wonderful opportunity for older Mass goers in the diocese to experience once again the beauty, solemnity, and splendour of the Traditional Latin Mass. It was also an opportunity for younger Mass goers to witness for the first time the central and most splendid jewel of their Catholic liturgical heritage – the magnificent Mass with sacred music that formed all the great saints of the Church and nourished the faith and lives of their grandparents and ancestors.

Many older Catholics remembered their chants and took up their part in the singing of the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus and Agnus Dei. It was a great delight to all the servers when a young boy, without a moment of hesitation or insecurity, presented himself to the serving team and requested to serve with them. ...

A great day for Waterford and a privilege for all who assisted. Fr Faber never spoke truer words when he described this Mass as ‘The most beautiful thing this side of Heaven.’ ”

A First Mass in Ireland

Thanks to our friend Mr John Briody for sending in these photos of the First Mass of Canon John O’Connor of the Institute of Christ the King, celebrated this past Sunday at St. Kevin’s Church, Harrington Street, Dublin, Ireland which is home to the Latin Mass Chaplaincy for the Dublin Archdiocese. Our congratulations to Canon O’Connor, who is currently posted to the Institute’s Apostolate located at Sacred Heart Church, The Crescent, in Limerick. (A reminder that Mr Briody has a large number of photos, of liturgies and other stuff, on his two flickr accounts.)

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