When did we Irish Catholic clergy stop listening to the laity? It was sometime between the death of Queen Victoria and the founding of the Irish Free State, between 1901 and 1922: there were plenty of us priests; we were treated with extraordinary deference; we were the sole moral arbiters of our society; we were trusted without limit.
We didn’t think that the laity had anything to tell us, not even after Vatican II encouraged us to listen to them. The idea of the simple faithful remained: the late Cardinal Conway even worried about “the mentality of the people”, who, obviously, had nothing to teach us.
Why, then, could we have listened, really listened, when somebody came to tell us that one of our own was abusing children? Individually, we were often humble, but we were caught in an institutional arrogance so great that defense of the institution itself was far more important than the sufferings of damaged people. The people’s ancient trust of their priests was betrayed. Jesus’ own words about children (Mark chapter 10, verses 13 to 16) were ignored.
There is no excuse for us getting it so consistently wrong for so long.




When he was Taoiseach, John Bruton broadened our view of the Irish past: on his office wall there was a large portrait of
and
We Irish are said to have the gift of the gab, but is this, like the Celtic Tiger, more shadow than substance? Let’s look at a few of our prominent people:
This problem extends beyond politics:
Kevin Myers
Eamon Casey
Fergus O'Donoghue, SJ is editor of Studies: an Irish Quarterly Review.