B’fhéidir nach dtaitníonn sé le daoine áirithe, ach tá an chreidimh fós láidir in Éirinn. Tá sé sin fíor fiú dóibh siúd nach bhfreastalaíonn ar Aifreann go rialta. Mar is dlúth páirt é dár ndúchais agus tá “creideamh ár shinsear” fite fuaite le stair na hÉireann agus féiniúlacht muintir na hÉireann.
That is not unique to Ireland. The faith of the majority of its people has played a similar part in sustaining the national identity and resistance of people as diverse as the Catholics of Poland and the Buddhists of Tibet. Perhaps there was even an echo of that in the recent referendum results.
Mostly, the resilience of that tradition is manifested in celebrations such as those around Easter and Christmas as well as the rituals of baptism, confirmation and burial. These have become secularised but are still intimately connected to our heritage, much as others might attempt to rename them and turn them into something contrary to their original meaning.
Tá an Cháisc lárnach, ní hamháin d’oidhreacht Chríostúil mhuintir na hÉireann, ach dár bhféiniúlacht mar phobal.
Ar Domhnach na Cásca, ceiliúraimid Aiséirí an Slánaitheoir agus ar Luan Cásca, 1916, tharla Aiséirí an Náisiún. Nó, b’fhéidir, cuid den aiséirí mar thosaigh athbheochan pobal na hÉireann roimh an lá sin, agus níl an ceann scríbe sroichte fós.
Easter celebrates the resurrection but before the resurrection came the passion, An Páis. On Good Friday, Aoine an Chéasta, Christ was crucified. It was for well over a thousand years a centre point of the life of the Irish people. It would be little exaggeration to say that the sufferings of the tortured saviour were often felt intimately to be symbolic of the sufferings of our people.
That is apparent in one of the great songs of the tradition, Caoineadh na dTrí Mhuire.
Máirtín Ó Cadhain, on hearing Seosamh Ó hÉanaí’s rendering of this in the 1950s, wrote that “he brings home to us the joys and sorrows of Mary with the intimacy and poignancy of a Fra Angelico painting.” The words are close to the version published in An Claidheamh Soluis in January 1915, which I believe is the version transcribed by Padraig Pearse from the singing of Máire Ní Fhlannchadha.
Tá chuid mór filíochta agus amhránaíochta ar an bPáis i mbéaloideas na Gaelann. Dár le Angela Partridge a scríobh leabhar faoi “Téama na Páise” sa traidisiún, chuaigh fréamhacha an traidisiúin siar go dtí na Meánaoise. Bhí an pobal in ann daonnacht Máthair Íosa a mothaigh mar dhaoine a bhí ag fulaingt freisin. Bhí an méid sin fíor ach go háirithe leis na mná.
Indeed, the Caoineadh is still widely sung, as evidenced by this recording in the Celi Dé album which reached the top of the independent charts sa tír seo deich mbliain ó shin.
Nuair a bhí Máire Bean Uí Cheannabháin ag aithris leagan ‘Caoineadh na Páise do Partridge i 1975, bhris sí síos agus ní raibh sí ábalta an chuid eile a rá. Deir sí: “Tá mé goite chomh fada is tá mé in ann …mar léifidh tú scéal ar ‘chuile mháthair, mar nach mbeidh chuile mháthair mar sin lena mac féin? Gortaíonn Caoineadh na Páise mé an mhór.”
That personal and even communal connection with the Passion is also found in other parts of the oral and written tradition. Seanmóir na nAithreach Naofa is a poem which ends with the crucified Christ promising his mother who stands at the foot of the cross that she would be with him in Heaven.
Not only that but “Níl aon duine a ghoilfeas aon deor faoi mo Pháise nach bhfuighidh a chuid de ghlóir shíorraí na bhFlaitheas” – That no one who shed a tear for him in his sufferings would not be denied everlasting glory.
A powerful promise to people whose lives were not just hard in the way in which all human lives are hard, but which had been subjected to centuries of communal suffering and attempts to eradicate them from the face of the earth. Ach táimid ag seasamh an fód fós.