Reflections on relics

What a phenomenon the tour of the relics of St ThΘrΦse of Lisieux around Ireland earlier this year was

What a phenomenon the tour of the relics of St ThΘrΦse of Lisieux around Ireland earlier this year was. One has to go back to Daniel O'Connell's monster meetings, in the cause of repeal of the Act of Union in the early 1840s, to find any comparable mass movement of the Irish people. Some can, did and no doubt still do ignore the whole event, but, if so, they are closing their eyes to what has to be one of the most significant Irish sociological occurrences.

Of the two books, Don Mullan's is the more substantial, revealing and moving, but both, in their differing ways, explore an Irish social event the ramifications of which who can tell.

In his introduction, Mullan tells us that St ThΘrΦse is a favourite saint of his and he conceived the idea of asking the plain people of Ireland to write to him about their reasons for visiting and their experiences of the relics. He was overwhelmed by the response. Something deep was stirred by the visit; despite the secularisation of Irish society, "a deep well of spirituality" still remains, he concludes.

Cynics scoffed at the exercise. "Some saw it as a last-gasp attempt by a wounded Catholic Church to give itself the kiss of life, in the hope of resuscitating the good old days when bishops and priests were feudal lords in their dioceses and parishes," he writes. But despite the massive crowds the relics attracted, there was no triumphalism - "no bishop bandwagons and no clerical clowning". In fact, the bishops and priests were as confused and fascinated as the media.

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Mullan describes his book as "a unique snapshot of how a diverse group of people" encountered the saint, and as expressing a broad cross-section of opinion. It doesn't really do that, as little dissent, detachment, cynicism or hostility find voice in the myriad of responses.

The second part of the introduction is Mullan's declaration of faith. He writes with great sincerity and conviction. It was profoundly borne in on him that belief is a choice. "And, like St ThΘrΦse of Lisieux in the final months of her life, I understand that, for some, belief in an all-powerful and loving Creator is, quite literally, an act of blind faith when our souls are devoid of light and seem filled by an arid landscape."

Most of the book is testimony from people who have a deep faith in and feel intense gratitude to St ThΘrΦse. A chapter entitled 'Beyond Rhyme and Reason' has contributions from a few people who are less certain or convinced. There is a short chapter, 'Dissenting Views', which is prefaced by an apt quotation from ThΘrΦse herself: ". . . a little bit of bitterness is at times preferable to sugar".

The authors of the second book travelled with the relics on their three-month journey round Ireland (Eugene McCaffrey was one of the tour's co-ordinators) and kept diaries of what they saw. The diary is very well-organised, with the name of each place the reliquary visited on top of the relevant page, above the date of the visit. So if you want to read an account of your local area first, you can get straight to that part of the book quickly. Each page contains an account of what happened when the "ThΘrese-mobile" arrived in a particular area, with brief personal reactions of named people interspersed in blue print.

There are welcome touches of humour in places. For example: "One Carmelite, travelling with the reliquary, was a little taken aback when a young girl innocently asked him: 'Are you the relic?'"

This is a colourful book with photographs on every page, some really superb, capturing moments of veneration, anticipation, laughter, sorrow, joy, uncertainty - a whole gamut of emotions, in fact.

The final page of Healy and McCaffrey's book offers some interesting conclusions about this unique happening. The chapter entitled "Reflections" is the nearest Mullan's book comes to an "explanation" of why people turned out in such numbers to visit the relics. Perhaps that's just as well. For, after all, the heart is a lonely hunter.

Brian Maye is a writer and historian