The Last Priest of Ireland, RTE 1, Monday and RTE Player
When “The Last Priest of Ireland” begins with Father Dougal’s visit to Knock, the kitschy home of Irish Catholicism, you wonder what will happen.
But there was little to worry about. This was a thoughtful assessment of what Ireland would be like in the coming decades if there were few or no Catholic priests left.
Warning signs have been present for some time, and the church has sought to adapt to dwindling resources as vocations collapse.
Rather than sending missionary priests overseas, we have received them from other countries. Rules have been changed to allow married men to serve as deacons and administer some of the sacraments, dioceses have merged, and there is talk of diocesan mergers.
Ardal O’Hanlon had no obvious qualifications to screen this documentary, other than being the actor who played Father Dougal McGuire in Father Ted.
When he was 7 or 8 years old, he was “very holy” and thought at the time that he might have a calling, but he has since declared himself a lost Catholic, and the Catholic church has been accused of child sexual abuse. I felt embarrassed and angry at his actions.
He is “agnostic and hostile to the dishonorable Church.”
Nevertheless, his childhood and family friends were priests, and he clearly valued them highly.
We met Father Martin Donnelly. He grew up with O’Hanlon in Monaghan and is now part of a parish in Wales.
He acknowledged that it was difficult to become a priest during the time of the abuse scandal, but said his calling was like when a couple met and found out they were going to get married. He said calling to God was like meeting his wife.
We also met a soldier and priest (another family friend of the O’Hanlons) who served a mission in Africa for 17 years before returning home to take up a chaplaincy with the Irish Defense Forces.
Although he was happy with his life, he regrets that he did not have the opportunity to experience the joy of children.
Another guest was Father Ted co-creator Arthur Matthews, who had two uncles who were priests, and his great-uncle was Cardinal Cullen.
Cullen profoundly changed the Irish Catholic Church in 1850 with a series of Roman-inspired statutes that directed it away from its Celtic traditions and toward Victorian austerity. It is said.
After independence, the Free State became even more ecclesiastical, enjoying a reputation as one of the most Catholic countries in the world.
By the mid-20th century, Ireland was producing an exorbitant number of priests, and the church was being “given the keys to a candy store” by its client governments.
“Did they miss their escape?” O’Hanlon asks rhetorically.
He points out that in 1965, when he was born, there were 400 seminarians, but by 2023 that number will be only 10.
As seminaries continue to close across the country, O’Hanlon is touring Clonliffe (opposite Croke Park), built by Cullen but now in disrepair, bought by property developers and awaiting destruction or regeneration. .
When I visited a seminarian friend in Maynooth a few years ago, the main hallway, lined with class photos, was a visible sign of decline.
Until the 1960s, framed photographs were of large gatherings, then football teams, then football teams, and finally five-a-side teams.
O’Hanlon has never opined on whether this extreme decline is a good or bad thing, simply saying that the church and its clergy are “an inevitable part of our cultural DNA.” Ta.