I have been reluctant to write about Ireland's loss of its Catholic identity because I have never been to the country and would be relying on hearsay and surface impressions. Fr. Thomas G. Casey, S.J. does not have that problem. He knows the country firsthand. He is an Irish Jesuit, who currently teaches philosophy at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome.
Casey has seen all the things that people point to when they refer to the last few decades as the "Irish moment" in modern history: the country's new affluence from its role in the computer industry; the world-wide interest in Irish culture, exemplified by the Riverdance phenomenon and the popularity of novels and films with Irish themes, such as Angela's Ashes; even the success of Irish rock musicians such as U2 and Van Morrison.
But Casey has seen something else, as well: the loss of Ireland's Catholic heritage. There was a time, not so long ago, when everyone understood that Catholicism was central to the Irish national identity. I know, I know: Hollywood's image of the Irish is a caricature. But caricatures require a basis in reality to strike home. The rosary-thumbing Irish rogues played by Victor McLaglen and Barry Fitzgerald resonated with audiences because the audiences knew people like them; because they took it for granted that the Church was at the core of the Irish character.
Casey begins an article in the in the November 27th issue of America entitled "Jolted by Affluence" with an observation about Riverdance that had escaped me. (Now that he has pointed it out, I am slapping my forehand with my palm and asking myself how I missed it.) I loved Riverdance, but Casey hits the nail on the head. He writes, "The internationally successful musical…which has delighted audiences worldwide with its energy and spectacle, begins with the ancient Celtic world and culminates in a cosmopolitan and multicultural Ireland. But its grand sweep of Irish history neglects the seminal contribution of Christianity. The only reference to Christianity in the whole show is an insignificant image of a small church. Riverdance presents a picture of Ireland that neglects to acknowledge its Christian heritage."
Anyone who has seen the show knows that Casey is not exaggerating. I don't know the intentions of the producers of Riverdance, but one could easily conclude that their goal was to portray the many centuries when the Church shaped Ireland's history as a dark age between Ireland's glorious pagan past and its secular multicultural future. Could it be that the people responsible for Riverdance share Frank McCourt's view in Angela's Ashes? McCourt wrote, "Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood."
It could be that they do. Fr. Casey argues that this is the perception of the Church that has taken root with many modern Irish: "Since the 1990s Ireland has undergone a whirlwind of change. In the 1980s Ireland was a relatively poor country in European terms, but by the start of the new millennium it had become one of the most affluent." Some now use the term "Celtic Tiger" to describe the country's economy.
With the affluence has come a surge of secularism and consumerism. "For centuries we Irish heroically resisted the best Britain could throw at us. At present we are being colonized by consumerism. The Irish imagination is becoming anesthetized to higher values as a result of a headlong rush into hedonism: we are shopping, spending, borrowing, eating, drinking and sleeping around as never before."
The result? "Work takes up more time and offers greater monetary rewards; families have become smaller. The Church's influence has weakened. In 1995 divorce was legalized." Irish families, he contends, "appear not to have transmitted the faith to their children. It is not surprising that young people have quietly abandoned a Catholicism about which they were taught little and of which they experienced even less in their daily lives."
Most Irish teenagers nowadays, says Casey, "would be hard-pressed to list even five of the Ten Commandments," even though they "endlessly discuss designer labels and know how to exploit every feature of their cell phones." In the last few years, "cocaine, that quintessentially middle-class drug, has increased tenfold in Ireland. Rising levels of addiction have been mirrored in higher suicide rates and a substantial increase in crime."
Things are no better, Casey continues, among the "opinion-makers, the "Irish intelligentsia, who pride themselves on being ecumenical and multi-denominational." These secular elites in Ireland "have an abysmally low level of knowledge when it comes to religion of any kind." Try to discuss a serious religious issue with them and "you draw perplexed glances." "It is worse than talking with a sports journalist who has never heard of Babe Ruth or who has no clue how many players are on a soccer team." The modern cosmopolitan Irish may be bright and competent, but they lack any awareness of the heritage of the Christian West. And of what made Ireland Ireland.
Casey cuts to the chase. "The Irish psyche is shrinking from vast spiritual dimensions to a narrowly materialistic focus. Something beautiful is dying, and it is painful to watch."
Is there any hope for Ireland? Casey thinks there is. He finds it in an ironic place, in a phenomenon brought on by Ireland's rising prosperity: the "huge number of immigrants who have arrived on our shores in recent years. They are not as enslaved as we are to consumerism, and they are blessed with a much stronger sense of community — the key ingredients for an Irish future that is less pretentious, more authentic and receptive to a fundamentally Christian vision. Indeed the 160,000 Polish immigrants, who form the largest single group of migrant workers in Ireland, are astounding us with their faith commitment."
Casey ponders whether "these ‘new Irish' may open our eyes so that we can rediscover our own soul." The key will be whether they will prove more immune to the lures of the modern world than the native Irish. (One can't help but wonder why they would be more immune. The Poles have been remarkable strong in their faith over the centuries, but so were the Irish and the Spanish up until recently.)
There are lessons to be learned here. It is a phenomenon we have seen over and over again: the most "Catholic" countries of Europe — Spain, Italy, Ireland — have succumbed to the lures of secular relativism in a flash, as history measures time, once Catholicism's role in their societal life was contracted by those, both inside and outside the Church, who called for an accommodation between the Church and the forces of modernity, aggiornamento. Is the Ireland described by Fr. Casey the price that must be paid for that decision? If so, count me out.
