Memories of papal visit tarnished by abuse scandals

I was 10-years-old when Pope John Paul II made his celebrated visit to Ireland in September 1979. I can still vividly recall standing on a train station platform as the Aer Lingus 747 carrying him descended on Dublin, escorted by the Irish Air Corps.

I was among the 1.25 million people (almost a third of the Irish population) on their way to the Phoenix Park for the historic mass. We were herded like exported cattle onto a packed, seatless train carriage and on arrival at Ashtown made the short walk to the park. There was a carnival-like atmosphere as we anticipated our audience with the Roman Catholic Church's most senior figure. This pontiff was box office, to put in mildly. Not even the Rolling Stones were as rock 'n' roll as this Pope when it came to star power.

•The Papal Cross can evoke mixed feelings towards our Catholicism. PHOTO BY DARREN KINSELLA

We munched on ham sandwiches and packets of Tayto as the Pope said mass. The sound quality was poor and I couldn't understand his accent very well. But I remember being excited when the Popemobile started its tour of the park, craning my neck to get a glimpse of the main man. Much to my disappointment, he didn't come anywhere close to us. After mass had ended, it was impossible to get near the train station due to the large crowds and like thousands of others we had to trek, pilgrimage-style, to the city on foot.

That evening, as luck would have it, we happened to be on Sean McDermott Street just as the Pope was passing Our Lady of Lourdes Church, home to the shrine of Matt Talbot. There had been weeks of speculation that he would stop to visit the shrine but locals were left disappointed on the day when the Pope's entourage sped past the assembled crowd. The Popemobile came so close to us that were it not for the crush barriers and Garda presence we almost could have reached out and touched it. We screamed "your holiness!" as he approached. He smiled in our direction and blessed us. That moment was one of the highlights of my childhood but my precious memories of the papal visit have since been tarnished by scandals involving the Catholic Church.

It's hard not to cringe today when you look at archive television footage of hypocrites like Eamon Casey and the late Fr Michael Cleary warming up the crowd as they awaited the Pope's arrival in Galway. But their transgressions were mild in comparison with the evil depravity of other priests.

Once a stronghold of Catholicism, Ireland's devotion to the church has been rocked by revelations of child sexual abuse by members of religious orders and more recently the Tuam babies' scandal. To some extent we have almost become inured to controversies involving the Catholic Church. It took a member of the clergy, Fr Brian D'Arcy, to bring home the gravity of the case of the dead babies when he drew parallels with Nazi Germany during a radio interview on Newstalk.

Every church scandal erodes our Catholicism but not necessarily our Christian faith and beliefs. If it's a challenging time to be a Catholic in Ireland, you can only imagine how difficult it is for decent, law-abiding members of the clergy who abhor the abuse of children.

The Papal Cross in Dublin serves as a poignant reminder of more innocent times, when Ireland wore its Catholicism with pride. But for many victims of church abuse, it is a symbol of oppression. If a papal visit were to happen today, I imagine the mass would be celebrated in a much smaller venue than the Phoenix Park.