In some parts of the country, bonfires – and bonefires, perhaps – were blazing last night for St John’s Eve or Oíche Shin Seáin: a tradition that has endured from pre-Christian times though it was named and celebrated for generations in honour of St John the Baptist.
This lovely thread from Wexford archaeologist Colm Moriarty, explains that “June 23rd, is St. John’s Eve, or as it is known in many parts of Ireland, Bonfire Night. It was traditionally marked by the construction of large fires throughout the countryside. These were lit at sundown and were the focal point of communal festivities.”
“People gathered to dance & sing, while young men proved their bravery by leaping through the flames. The night was also rich in folklore, much of it concerned with fertility. Prayers and rhymes were recited to ensure a plentiful harvest,” he explains.
Moriarty says the fire of St John’s Eve was thought to have magical powers, and that the ashes would be scattered by farmers to ensure fertility for the land or brought home to bring luck or additional blessings on a household. Some would parade through the fields with lighted branches from the bonfire in the belief that this would protect the crops from disease and pestilence.
“Though most of these customs are no longer practised, lighting St John’s fires still takes places in many parts of Ireland (especially the west). It is hardly a coincidence that these are lit so close to the Summer Solstice & it suggests that the custom may have ancient roots,” he says.
It is certainly still seems a widespread custom on Achill and ar Oileáin Árann – where the Srutháin village bonfire was “burning bright” on Inis Mór last night.
But according to Cllr Albert Deasy, it was always a strong tradition in Cork and he shared this lovely reflection, entitled ‘Féile, Guth agus Filíocht: A Reflection on Bonfire Night’ on the meaning and importance of the feast yesterday.
“According to an old Irish saying, there are three innate gifts that cannot be learned: Féile, Guth agus Filíocht. These traits – generosity, a singing voice, and the gift of poetry – are woven into our cultural fabric. Tonight is Féile tSin Seáin, or Bonfire Night, and it’s no coincidence that this Féile, with roots in Pre-Christian times, falls at the Summer Solstice—when the North Pole turns toward the sun, reaching the height of light before turning back to darkness.”
“Lighting the bonfire remains the defining ritual of the Summer Solstice. Although recently frowned upon, the act itself is a strong symbol of our pagan and Christian origins. During this time, the longest day and shortest night are celebrated by many cultures with unique traditions. These festivals, deeply rooted in our collective memory, persisted long after Christianity arrived. Instead of erasing the old, the church superimposed Christian celebrations—like the Feast of St. John the Baptist—onto the pagan Féile, allowing traditions to blend and continue.”
“Growing up on Pouladuff Road in Cork City in the 1960s, the preparations for Bonfire Night started in early June. Boys would gather wood, tyres, and old furniture—sometimes breaking or ‘borrowing’ to add to their piles, but the rule was that nobody interfered with anyone else’s pile, and there used to be up to twenty-four bonfires on Pouladuff Road alone.”
“On the night itself, the 6 o’clock Angelus bell signalled the start. Kids ran from house to house collecting food or a few bob, and it would be very bad form to refuse them. As the fires blazed, neighbours gathered outside, each group like actors in a play. The older boys tended the fires, making them tall and bright, lighting up the sky, while younger lads ran from crossroads to crossroads, checking whose fire was brightest. Rivalries and slagging matches added to the excitement, sometimes sparking an outbreak of mild fisty-cuffs!”
“Playing with the fire was part of the fun, with many a torch brandished, while jumping over the flame was the most daring escapade. Mothers and grandmothers doled out lemonade and treats. Later, as the fires died down, people drew nearer the fire to sing, share stories, and enjoy the final moments of the night. The final actors to the stage were the men who stopped on their way home from The Harp, Murphys, or the Hawthorn.”
“Around these bonfires, we see the circle of time, ritual, festival, fun, love and tension all wrapped up. In modern society, efforts to control or sanitise these traditions risk losing sight of who we are. Rebranding Bonfire Night as ‘No Fire Night’ is well intentioned and welcome in some ways, but it also risks distancing us from our heritage,” he wrote.
“These celebrations, rooted in the streets near our homes and the bonds between neighbours, remind us of a time when community was the fabric of everyday life, and the bureaucracy of City Hall was more distant. A time where the ritual of the bonfire embodied our shared history, our innate gifts, and our collective identity.”
At the other end of the country, in Donegal, we’re told that June 23rd is Bonefire (not Bonfire) Night – and in Gaeilge Uladh the name Eoin is used so that it is St John’s Eve or Oíche Fhéile Eoin – which is “a night is rooted in ancient traditions which eventually blended into Christianity”.
“These fires were meant to draw God’s blessing on the summer crops and to repel witches and evil spirits. In Ireland, the bonfire was traditionally lit by the eldest person of the community, while the youngest would throw a bone into the flames. Ashes were scattered through the fields for good luck,” says Donegal Square, adding that “attendees of the festival would jump over the fires to signify the seasonal transition, but also very likely to test one another’s manhood! In fact, a great deal of jumping and leaping was involved in St. John’s Eve. Farmers would jump as high as they could for tall crops. As for the fishermen, their nets and boats would be blessed by priests and celebratory salmon dinners were held. St. John’s Eve also marked the beginning of summer swimming in Ireland.”
Donegal County Museum says that in that region: “In olden times, the fire was lit exactly at sunset (in even earlier times at midnight) and was to be watched and tended until early morning. Prayers were said to get a blessing for the crops and in the morning, the ashes were taken away to be spread on the land to improve the fertility of the crops.”
“In 1782, Rev Donald M’Queen from the Isle of Skye after a visit to Ireland, wrote “At the house where I was entertained, it was told to me that we should see at midnight the most singular sight in Ireland, which was the ‘lighting of fires in honour of the sun.’ Accordingly, exactly at midnight the fires began to appear; and taking the advantage going up to the rear of the house, which had a widely extended view, I saw on a radius of thirty miles, all round, the fires burning on every eminent vantage.”
The wonderful Molsceal tell us that the tradition is “fite fuaite” or inextricably interwoven in the traditions of the area around Musheramore where pilgrimages are made to holy wells which were blessed by the saint himself according to lore, and whose waters were said to have healing powers.
Is é Naomh Seán naomh pátrún i nDúthaigh Mhuisire, tá sé fite fuaite i seanchas an cheantair. Déantar ceiliúradh air ar Oíche Shin Seáin, lá a ndéantar turas chuig na toibreacha ar an gcnoc agus a lastar na tinte cnámha.
As Gaeilge, as most of us will have learned ar scoil, the poet Mairtín Ó Direáin wrote lyrically of “thréimhse úd an aoibhnis” celebrating Mí Eoin, le “tinte chnámh is laetha meala.”
In 1979, which I am almost astonished to observe, was 46 long years ago, famed broadcaster Ciarán Mac Mathúna visited Co Clare “to experience the traditions associated with St John the Baptist” where he observed “the construction of large fires throughout the countryside harking back to a pre-Christian era of fire and sun worship. Bonfires are lit at sundown and local people participate in festivities such as traditional music and dancing.”
Near Spancil Hill he chats with two elderly bonfire builders, brothers Joe and Paddy McNamara. Since he was a boy, Joe McNamara has lit the fire opposite his home every year. It was his parent’s wish for the tradition of the bonfire to be continued on the same spot that has seen a fire for generations.
“It was part of living if you like, it was part of our daily lives, St John’s fire,” says Joe McNamara.
The wonderful Junior Crehan (a renowned fiddle player) told Mac Mathúna that “because of the light evenings at midsummer, the cattle would come close to the lit bonfire. Nobody would move them because it meant the cows would have St John’s blessing which would bring them luck in calving and milk production.” He recalled that “boys and girls would gather there and fiddles, flutes, concertinas and the dance sets and there’d be few songs. “Look closely at the video to see a plethora of high-regarded singers, dancers and musicians from Clare.)
Mac Mathúna wonders whether the celebration of St John’s Eve would continue, ending on the hopeful note of the Irish prayer: Go mbeirimid beo ar an am seo arís – may we all be alive and well at the same time next year. One thinks he might glad to see that it has, in fact, survived and hopefully will endure.