THE WATCHWORDS were “simplicity” and “low key”, said a family friend. This was a private occasion. And despite the involvement of the Department of the Taoiseach and the Army, so it transpired as Brian Lenihan’s remains arrived in the warm sunshine of a summer’s evening and were borne into the beautiful church of St Mochta in Porterstown, Dublin 15.
Many commented on the size of the church. Evidently, neither St Mochta’s nor the roads around it were built to accommodate the throng who wanted to bid farewell to a dearly loved man, a public figure and former minister for finance, tragically gone long before his time. But this was Brian Lenihan’s own place, only a few hundred yards from his home. This was the church where he attended Mass, often slipping discreetly into the fourth or fifth pew from the back.
Yesterday, a lone swallow fluttered through the beams of the old church, as the first of the dignitaries, the president of the High Court, Mr Justice Nicholas Kearns, arrived, two hours before the appointed time, followed by familiar members of the Fianna Fáil family, such as Mary Hanafin, Pat Carey, Michael Woods and loyal staff.
At 6pm, the church bell tolled and the chatter of dignitaries faded as a wreath of trumpet lilies was laid before the altar. The swallow continued to twitter melodiously as military pall-bearers bore the Tricolour-draped coffin inside, diverting around the holy water font at the centre of the narrow aisle before gently and ceremoniously laying down their burden on a low bier.
They were followed by Brian Lenihan’s wife, Patricia, linked to their daughter, Clare, their son Tom, his mother Ann, his brothers, Conor, Niall and Paul, sister Anita, and his aunt Mary O’Rourke. Harpist Teresa O’Donnell accompanied soloist Mary Flynn, as she sang Quietly, Peacefully.
“Mothers don’t expect to bury their children, do they?”, said the chief celebrant, Fr Eugene Kennedy, an old friend of Brian’s from Laurel Lodge, at the heart of his constituency, as he offered sympathy to individual Lenihan family members.
Referring to him as a “great young man”, as a Bible was placed on the coffin, he noted that Brian often carried one with him. “Brian’s faith was strong, Christian life was important to him. He brought a Bible with him on many of his travels, and could he quote from it”, he asked rhetorically. “Better than many a cleric, including myself”.
When a cross was placed beside the Bible, Fr Kennedy said it was to remind us of the saving cross of Jesus Christ – “and God alone knows that [Brian] doesn’t need that cross because he suffered enough, especially in recent years”. In a short homily, he said that “the talents, the gifts, the personality of Brian, it’s all been said in so many ways over so many days by the President, the Taoiseach, by Olli Rehn, Jean Claude Juncker, Christine Lagarde and many other national and international figures – and especially so forcefully by 9,000 people down the road on Saturday evening in Laurel Lodge as they queued in great numbers to sign the bereavement books”.
He wouldn’t dare to try and compete with the words of such illustrious people, he said, “except on behalf of the gnáthmhuintir Átha Cliath a cúig déag”, of which Brian was so much a part, a part of their community, their place, and in a place where they felt they had proprietorial rights over him.
“I want to say that we are deeply indebted to a man who always had care and concern for us and for the various organisations and events that were taking place – and that was even when he was burdened by major national issues and lately, by his failing health.
“Ten days before he died, Brian said to me that he was not worried about his dying, that his sole concern was the pain and distress it was going to cause to you Patricia, to Clare, to Tom, to others . . .” They would never see his like again for many a long day, he finished in Irish.
The simple service concluded with a decade of the Rosary said by Archbishop Diarmuid Martin, and Cardinal Newman’s prayer, a favourite of Brian’s: “May He support us all the day long, till the shades lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in His mercy may He give us a safe lodging, and a holy rest and peace at the last”.
As the Coolin was played softly on the harp, President Mary McAleese and her husband Martin walked across the aisle to offer condolences, followed by a long line of Fianna Fáil and government figures that included Brian Cowen, Bertie Ahern, Liam Cosgrave, Albert Reynolds and Charlie McCreevy. The line moved unusually slowly, as many lingered to exchange warm hugs and greetings with Ann Lenihan.
The swallow still fluttered overhead as the first of them moved outside, to talk about old times, while the gnáthmhuintir of Dublin 15 queued patiently to pay their respects.