Margaret wants to know: You can take the boy out of Ireland, but you can’t take Ireland out of the boy. How much do you feel you owe to your Irish roots?
Dear Margaret,
The short answer: Nearly everything.
Although I have now spent much more time off the island than I did growing up there, Ireland – and Northern Ireland in particular – has profoundly shaped me, both for weal and for woe.
One of the very few Catholics in our Belfast neighborhood, I learned at a tender age about different expressions of Christianity and that there was something “wrong” about being Catholic. I have many memories of outright bigotry — of our next door neighbor, for example, casually announcing, “Catholics are dirty and they breed like rabbits.” I think that environment bred in me a sense of never truly belonging and I developed an exaggerated need to help and please others. I was a chronically polite little boy.
Although both my parents struggled against it as best they could, the Catholicism of my Irish childhood was quite marked by Jansenism and this infected me fairly badly. My three decades with the Jesuits has cured me of this tendency… most of the time.
There was great stuff as well: the wit and word play, the landscape (when it wasn’t raining too hard!), the genuine warmth of the people, and the Guinness!
I left Ireland in 1979 but I still sound as if I “got off the boat” yesterday. I demonstrate my Irishness with every word I utter. What a blessing!
Paul
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
“We are all products of our past” so the saying goes. I’m sure that’s true but we from what you demonstrate daily here, and I’m sure in the ‘real’ world, it doesn’t have to define our future. The bigotry that you experienced as a child I was fortunate enough to only hear very faint whispers, mostly from previous generations who had experienced it first hand. Yes, I went to a catholic school which set me apart from my friends in a neighbourhood of mostly non-catholic children, but the closest I got to sectarianism as a child was when my school played rugby against the local non-denominational school and their games master used our catholicism to stir the antagonism between the players. However, years later, I witnessed it at much closer quarters in the west of Scotland. I can only say that I’m not sure that I would have turned out as such a good example of Christianity as you appear to be, if I had been drip fed the sort of poison that is heard daily by children growing up in Glasgow on the basis of their faith.
Have a great week everyone.
Simon,
Sorry it has taken me so long to get back to you. I totally agree with you about how those who are “drip fed the sort of poison” have little change to escape bigotry.
Makes me wonder about what unhealthy things I’ve been fed or, worse, have given to others…
Paul
Oh Paul, what a touching reply to Margaret. I love how God has worked with you and how you have cooperated with God, to become the person that you are today. When you said “wit and word play” I immediately smiled! Your warmth, your wit and your word play shines through these pages so often, what a beautiful thing.
Thanks for sharing your life so generously in this world, in so many ways! Here’s to those Irish roots!
P.S. Chronically polite, I can see that. But with a dash of inner mischievousness as well! And I mean that in the best sort of way; a mischievousness clearly steeped in that pool of politeness. Where else would your love of Criggo come from?
Fran,
I do admit to mischievousness and confess that not all of it is “inner”!
Paul
I am sorry you had to suffer through a Jansenist youth — but glad that you and Iggy’s other companions have done so much to create schools, parishes, ministries and other resources (books!!!) to heal the church of to that dour heresy, and innoculate futire generations.
You know — not everyone reacts to a chronic sense of not belonging by becoming chronically polite and dedicating themselves to serving others. It seems to me that you lump that all in with the “for woe” part of Ireland’s influence on you; but those of us who are blessed by your ability to form and promote community, it was also “for well.”
I am loving this blogalogue. I followed it all last week while on vacation, when I could snatch a little bit of WiFi and read it on my phone. I am glad to be able to join the conversation again, but I also liked being able to read posts from you and Margaret and the other PFOers and reflect on them, without trying to think up something clever or wise to say in response. I appreciated the opportunity to develop some better on-line listening skills.
Also liked finding Iggy today.
Denise,
I’m so happy you’re enjoying the blogalogue. Anything to do with Margaret is, in my book, special.
Paul
Nothing is more lovely to my ears than an Irish accent. So glad you kept yours!
Claire,
And I love a French accent!
Paul
As per usual I’m late to the party , but when Paul said “In short everything!” my heart leapt up !
All of us who are Irish have tales to tell and some stories that still can raise hairs on necks. My own parents faith was strong but also imbued with a terrific sense of humour and also a healthy sense of irreverence towards the extremes of religiosity and ecclesiology that came from both or any “sides.”
They went to Lough Derg ( I think Paul may know where that is), back in the times when it was an austere place of pilgrimage, but their tales of what went on there still can make me laugh with tears running down my cheeks because they took from it what they needed and let the ultra pious stuff of “cheap grace ” go.
Thanks Paul for reminding me of the pains and pleasures of it all !
Blessings
Phil,
I, too, went to Lough Derg (because the chaplain at school implied it would help us get better grades in our “A” level exams) but I didn’t see anything funny about it at all. I couldn’t wait to get off the island!
Paul
I can see why you thought this .
I just remember my mother saying she went with my father and my uncle and it was the very fact that it was so dire that after convincing themselves they would die there, they decided to band together and tell jokes to keep their spirits up.
It was this aspect that kept them going .
My mum said that all they had to eat was black dried toast and their feet were cut on the jagged stones so they promised each other that they would have a slap up meal of steak and all the trimmings if they got off alive. Then when they finally left and limped to the nearest restaurant none of them could eat the meal.
Blessings
When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious. ― Edna O’Brien
Tim,
I’d never come across that quote before and I think it’s fantastic. Thanks for sharing it with me.
Paul
I completely missed this! What a love letter to your homeland. Being Irish by descent, I absolutely envy your first hand experience…well, maybe not the bigotry. Lovely!