#irish catholic

[khaperai]

IRA posters

[saint-0wen]

Hey, you! The Novena to St. Brigid Starts Tomorrow! (1/23)

Mural of Brigid in Co. Kildare

St. Brigid is an incredibly important and inspirational saint for the Irish people, the Irish diaspora, women, poets, children with abusive fathers or an unstable home, healers, blacksmiths, firefighters, midwives, people giving birth, dairy workers, chicken farmers, sailors, scholars, nuns, pro-choice acitivists, women's ordination activists, travellers, AND MORE! 📚

You may already know that there are heavy connections between the Irish goddess Brigid and St. Brigid. The pagan Brigid is a triple goddess, and not in the "maiden, mother, crone" way. She is Brigid the healer, the smith, and the poet. She is a goddess of fire- the inner fire, the lifeforce, the hearth, the fire of the forge, and the fire of inspiration. In fact, her name means "vitality" or "strength." Imbolg is her holy day. 🔥

St. Brigid is a canonized Catholic saint who's said to be the "Mary of the Gael," showing just how relevant she is to the Irish people. She's started her own monastery and was a travelling missionary. She's especially known for her generosity. She's often depicted as holding a shepherd's staff, something only bishops are portayed with in iconography. As it happens, Brigid may have been (and I believe that she was) one of the first ordained female bishops within the Catholic church. 😇

Now, many Catholics will insist that St. Brigid is a serpate human person from the Brigid of mythology, and many pagans will insist the same. There's debate surrounding the literal historical existance of a human saint named Brigid. My personal belief system is syncretic. It's obvious that St. Brigid's life stories have taken heavy inspiration from pagan tradition. There are some obvious differences as well. It's my personal belief that Brigid can and will express herself in whichever way her people, and any people, will recieve her. Back then it was pagan spirituality and a goddess culture. As time marched forward the Catholic church became Ireland's favorite inlet to the Divine. Brigid is a goddess of multiple persons and infinite possibilities. I don't think it's too much of a jump to veiw the two women as emanations of the same personality. It's also been shown time and time again that Irish folklore has transformed and survived through Catholicism. The love for Brigid is no exception. 💚

Here's a wonderful podcast episode telling some stories from the saint's life, as well as diving into the syncretic nature of Brigid.🎙

Here are some prayers you could use for your novena leading up to her feast day, Feb 1st. To pray a novena, you simply select a prayer or prayers to St. Brigid that speak to you, and pray them for nine days at the same time each day. A candle lit in her honor during your prayers (or even a perpetual flame, if you know your fire safety and wanna get fancy) is a nice touch but not required.🕯

Prayers listed by a Catholic community in support of inclusivity and women's ordination.

Prayers and traditions surrounding St. Brigid

More prayers, including a litany to St. Brigid

Hopefully during this Imbolg season I'll be able to post more about the goddess and saint Brigid. St. Brigid, pray for us! 🕯

Beannachtaí agus go raibh Naobh Bríd leat 💚🙏🔥

[dec0ra-grl]

‘But I’m a Cheerleader!’ But it’s Molly O’Shea 1899 edition (PLEASE CLICK ON IT FOR QUALITY)

Poster it’s based off🥳

[peanutbub4ever]

The MacManus Brothers(The Boondock Saints-1999)

[figmentsfragments]

An Irish Goodbye

By E. Carry

(TW/CW: grief, grandparent loss, Catholic upbringing)

I was born into a big family — the Irish-Catholic way. Most of that family is gone now, and those left are dysfunctionally disconnected — another one of the Irish-Catholic ways.

Once upon a time, we had a matriarch. And what a matriarch she was. She was Helen Clare to many, but she was always Nana to me. When I needed advice on friendship, flower gardens, medical care, or anything really, I went to her. When everything was wrong and could be cured by only one hug, it was hers. The best childhood memories I cling to were the ones in her house — both of her houses.

Before my grandfather died, they lived a reasonable half hour away from my parents’ house, so we ate dinner there on many weeknights. My mom has since explained that she did that to save money, but all that mattered to me was spending time in my favorite place with my favorite people, my grandparents. My sister and I spent many summer days there, learning which of my mother’s childhood toys stood the test of time and which walls held the most ghosts. Eventually, my grandfather moved to a nursing home when his health declined too far, and, on one particularly terrible day, I stood in the kitchen alongside my Nana when the nursing home called to say he’d passed.

After my grandfather died, Nana sold their house and downsized to a townhouse across the street from my parents. I essentially lived there on weekends and most weeknights. After particularly bad school days, I would walk straight out of the minivan over to Nana’s front door, bypassing my own house entirely. Many a Bing Crosby, Perry Como, or Irish folk album was played in that kitchen with my Nana belting her brogued accompaniment, cigarette and coffee in hand. Many hands of War and Old Maid were played, with my blatant cheating never called out. I taught her to use her large-buttoned TV remote so we could watch Judge Judy, soap operas, true crime, QVC shopping network — you name it. Nana taught me the true art of mindless television, and she’d let me watch the music videos my parents tried to ban. I’d help answer all the modern pop culture questions of her crossword puzzles. We’d trade newspaper sections in silence sometimes, and, on gloomier days, we’d just talk about my grandfather until the sun went down. We missed him deeply and had experienced the worst day of our lives together, but at least we were together in it.

She lived in that townhouse on our street for the last three years of her life. She lived there until the day she was carried out by paramedics for her last hospital stay. It was the day after President’s Day — I was wearing red, white, and blue instead of my middle school uniform. We spent hours at her bedside and I begged my mother to let me stay for the duration. She said she didn’t have the strength to be there any longer, so we gathered our things to leave.

“Say goodbye to Nana. Remember, sweetie, this is probably the last time you’re ever going to see her.” Knowing full well that I’d already attended eighteen funerals, she had no reason to explain it down to me quite so pedantically.

“She’ll be okay. Well, not really okay. But Aunt Robin will stay with her, so that will be okay. Anyway, let’s get going. Remember, you’ve got school tomorrow, kid.” My heart had never felt heavier.

There were a million things I wanted to say to the strong, beautiful, kind woman that raised me. But I couldn’t say any of it with my mom waiting expectantly in the doorway, equally impatient to leave and eager to listen to everything I might say.

I stared into Nana’s eyes, as blue as ever, but so much wider than I was used to seeing. She was unable to speak from the intubation, and her face held so much fear I felt strings inside my heart just snap.

So I just said, “Goodnight, Nana. I hope you sleep tight. God bless you. I love you,” except I slurred it together the way my family always said it — more along the lines of “godbleshya, iluvya.”

I had long since given up on any concept of God, but I kept up the charade for the people to whom it mattered. It took every ounce of control I had to hold back my tears to speak, but I sensed in her panicked eyes that she needed to feel calm and normal. To this day, I wish I’d said so much more and so much else.

Nana spent the next three days on a morphine drip with Aunt Robin praying beside her. In those long days before she passed, my mother emptied out Nana’s entire house. She planned and scheduled her mother’s funeral while she was still alive in a hospital bed thirty minutes away. My mother tends to be a deeply unsentimental woman, at least in the moments it matters most.

Her funeral was the last day that side of my family existed; everyone fell apart in separate directions without her. I have a triquetra tattooed over my heart to keep close to me the little trio of a family I always wanted to keep: my grandparents with me. Nana taught me to cook in her kitchen and she also taught me everything worth knowing for the first twelve years of my life. I carry her in every part of my heart, mind, and soul still at age nearly-thirty.

She was a believer in the concept of guardian angels, like most of us who’ve known great loss. I have a long-standing beef against religion and the concept of god with a capital G, but I do consider myself spiritual in a much hippier way. I most certainly do feel my favorite people’s spirits guarding me all the time. I used to have a big family, and I still do; where they’re no longer physically here, their impact, lessons, and memories stay with me.

[ceo-draiochta]

A review of:

The Origins of Ireland's Holy Wells by Celeste Ray

Celeste Ray, a professor of anthropology for the University of the South, USA wrote this book after extensive research, both desk and foot into Irelands Holy Wells. I would honestly recommend anyone with any interest in Irish religious practices, culture, paganism, or mythology to pick it up. An amazing book. I'll be giving my thoughts and what I liked and didn't like about it here.

What I liked:

A very well researched book that shows the authors dedication not just to anthropology but to the living practices she is documenting

The passion of the author is clear and they Mince no words when discussing other researchers and their work, pointing out the flaws, misconceptions and biases (some of which were wild I can't believe some of these people are taken as authorities on the subject when their conclusion was that wells are a toilet metaphor?)

Uses a wider pre roman European context for the evidence. As we are so often reminded, to treat Ireland as some how separate from Western Europe is ridiculous and is a disservice to the interconnection of the people of old.

The reframing of this idea, which is normally used as a strong force against nativist views into a supportive one was quite interesting.

Examines roman writings in a very balanced way that acknowledges the inherent propaganda but does not dismiss it outright.

There's a whole section of people including academics who seems desperate for a roman invasion of ireland, despite there being basically no evidence of it. Like people are fully making things up to try and force one, the author gives these people a sound dismissal in their restating of the evidence of raiding and trade over large-scale roman conquest. (Genuine question can someone explain why people are so mad for Romans in ireland?)

I thus learned more about pre roman Western European practices and archeology than I ever really had the desire to. I am now much more educated on the subject.

The framing of sites as important locations adopted and readopted based on shifting circumstances of the time rather than a "secret unbroken line" which is much more realistic.

The explanation of Holy Wells as archaeologically challenging sites was well explained.

Using etymology in the connection of wells to supernatural beings. Love etymology so this was amazing

The use of early irish literature to support existing claims. Which I know claiming that there are pagan elements in the literature basically gets you spat and jeered at but nevertheless is really compelling.

While this blog has been thoroughly against the lumping together of celtic cultures, this book makes a great case as to when it is appropriate to use the term celtic and that the rush to replace this term has very much resulted in the baby being thrown out with the bath water.

Actually engages with living culture and treats folklore and living sources/practices as evidence to be considered rather than "silly little irish peasants" but also does not take every tale as completely accurate literal history.

Plenty of examples and pictures of well in practice today.

Supports a general pre Christian, pre roman use of wells and springs as sacred sites but also acknowledges the influence of both (especially Christian) on the practice.

Acknowledges the diverse origins of holy wells, from one's that have have votive offerings since the bronze age to ones that were made sacred in the modern age.

Does not buy into any sort of "Christians are thieves" narrative.

Honestly this seems like the definitive book on irish holy wells.

What I didn't like:

While I loved the book there was definitely things I took issue with.

The assertive nature of the tone was entertaining, it did sort of feel like the author was this close to calling other researchers "fucking idiots", though humanities papers seem to have a much more aggressive tone than I am used to from my field of study.

The author makes many an interesting and compelling hypothesis in the book, but they are just that. These theories are then presented as the fact of the matter when really they are no more or less substantiated than the other theories.

Could have done without some of the "identity politics" on the celtic question section. Like I get that's a huge part of this authors work but I didn't feel it was all necessary to include.

Some of the mythological comparisons seem like a little bit of a stretch Low-key.

Either way this is a fantastic work and I urge everyone even remotely interested to buy it, it's a little pricey but well worth it. It can be purchased online on Google books(link). Now obviously this is all from my lay perspective, if anyone with actual qualifications wants to correct or argue feel free. This is just my perspective.

[gliitterpunk]

im just catholic enough that I got the fetishes and not the trauma

[averysillygoose]

back in my complicated relationship with religion era

[duine-aiteach]

I used to keep the parish newsletters/people’s mass leaflets so I could hand them out after my own mass game. I was the priest and would give out bread (rice cake) and wine (apple juice). I would wear my dressing gown but later got a real priest’s robe (just the plain white undergarment) from a family friend. I briefly entertained the idea of becoming a priest but gave up when I realised they wouldn’t allow me to be a priest and then later realised that I don’t believe in God.

Needless to say, I was raised in rural Ireland where being a moderately religious school meant we prayed 3-4 times a day. My parents aren’t overly religious though my Irish/Catholic grandparents are, as are many of my neighbours. The country was a lot more Catholic twenty years ago and the church was a very central part of the community. It still is, but not to the same degree.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1688 – Goodwife ‘Goody’ Ann Glover is hanged in Boston, Massachusetts, accused of witchcraft.

The last woman to be hanged in Boston as a witch was Goodwife ‘Goody’ Ann Glover, an Irish laundress. This North End resident was wildly accused in 1688 of practicing witchcraft by the infamous Reverend Cotton Mather, pastor of the old North Church. Her Puritan accusers were caught up in a witch mania that was part of the rigid Puritanism of the time, attaching supernatural causes to things they…

[borbersk]

Man, speaking as a former Irish Catholic, American protestants are fucked up. Like, at least with us you know the church is fucked up but you still follow them because "Ah, well. Guess I kinda want to go to heaven. I guess we can let the priest away with it if I get eternal life"

But with you guys not only do you get brainwashed into not knowing the shit's fucked, you get brainwashed into thinking it's actually cool somehow. Ye have double blinders on. You've no knowledge of the evil you serve. You're not being held hostage at gunpoint, you're being gaslit into Stockholm syndrome

[babey-fruit-bat]

I’m drinking coke + whiskey today 🍀🥃🇮🇪

What about y’all? Happy St Patricks Day!!

[sugarbowlgen]

me sitting with my jesus christ superstar and last days of judas iscariot obsession : it’s the irish catholic in my bones surfacing

[john-f-kennedy-official]

wheres the white house

[bybyefromurgirlodam]

don't forget to stock up on prayers for your atheist friends in Ireland!

just this once include Irish Catholics too<3

protestants in NI who will be celebrating; grow some braincells, realise what you are actually celebrating (and that the history you learned in school is actually propaganda) and spread love instead of hate, fear and destruction of property

[sperya]

(via Irish Cat Shamrock St Patricks Day - Cat Shamrock - T-Shirt | TeePublic)