The story of the Lord Mayor of Cork, Terence MacSwiney, who died on hunger strike in Brixton Prison one hundred years ago last October, has more than a few lessons for the times we live in. His memory has fascinated people over the last century, just as his influence during life was hugely significant. A soldier, freedom fighter, promoter of Irish culture and language, politician and above all a man of deep religious conviction, MacSwiney focused international attention on the Irish Independence struggle to an extent that few others achieved. Of special interest to this writer is the fact that Terence MacSwiney died a member of the Franciscan Third Order (now known as the Secular Franciscan Order) having asked for and obtained Profession while on hunger strike. His request to his chaplain and friend, Fr. Dominic OFM Cap was that he be buried “in the Franciscan habit underneath my Brigadiers uniform” which was carried out according to his wishes. He received Holy Communion while on hunger strike and his chaplain was allowed more or less unrestricted access to him during the period leading up to his death.
An earlier incident in his life speaks loudly to Irish Catholics of today, deprived as we are of the Mass and Holy Eucharist. MacSwiney wrote of this in a diary no doubt intended for ultimate publication but which scarcity of time prevented from being realised. Extracts from the diary, complete with illustrations of his original handwriting, were made available to the public through the Capuchin Annals magazine in the early 1940’s. They recount an edifying scene when MacSwiney and a large number of other volunteers were detained by the British Forces at Richmond Barracks, Dublin in May 1916, awaiting their transfer to Wales. He recounts how the Army facilitated attendance of the men at Sunday Mass.
“A special word about Mass. First two Sundays I was here Mass was said in the square in front of our side where we could all see from the windows. May 29th was a great improvement. We went to Mass in the open. In view of this, men sought confession. This was arranged for the Saturday, and most of the men went to Communion on Sunday…The altar, a very modest one, was fitted in the back parade ground where we exercise. All the prisoners were marched out and formed up in lines before the altar. There was perfect order and reverence. A group in the centre near the altar sang hymns during the Mass…The whole ceremony was intently watched by soldiers, the Notts and the Derbys, from the barrack windows behind us. It may have been a revelation to them. They seemed to look on with wonder and interest….”
In the extract he mentions how some of the men were unable to secure Confession and held over their Holy Communion that Sunday but added “their turn will come later”.
There is no doubt but that the Mass sustained the detainees during this difficult period. Neither is there any doubt but that their captors had the magnanimity to realise this need and to actively cater for it. It may have even gone against their “rules” but they did so nonetheless. The captors were British and not Catholics. One hundred and five years later an Irish Government, sworn to serve under a Constitution that recognises the right to freedom of worship of Irish citizens, for reasons by no means proportionate, ensured that on the holiest Season of the year, Catholics could not attend Mass or receive Holy Communion.
As well as being deeply offensive to religion, there is something tragically un-Irish about it all. A nation at odds with its history cannot really be at peace.
Maurice O’Brien SFO
