“1916: The Irish Rebellion” documentary neglects Catholic influence on history 

Open up the appendices of the English translation of the Liturgy of the Hours for use in the U.S. (different from the one approved for use in Ireland), and you will find there, not one, but two poems by Joseph Mary Plunkett. What perhaps few of the thousands of daily users of this liturgical book realize is that this is the same Joseph Mary Plunkett who was executed by the British in 1916 for his leadership role in the Easter Rising.

This is a stunning testament to the strong Catholic faith that inspired not only Plunkett but all the leaders of the Rising. The writings of Pádraig Pearse, down to his final letter to his mother, evidence the strength of his Catholic faith on his thought and hopes for Ireland. James Connolly, the ardent socialist, led priests inside the GPO (General Post Office) to minister to the spiritual needs of his men, while he himself twice received communion devotedly in the short time preceding his own execution. Anyone looking for the genesis of the “blood sacrifice,” which is arguably the key to understanding the entire Rising, need look no further than the strong sacrificial dimension of the protagonists’ Catholic faith. So it was a little disappointing that in a documentary film produced by Notre Dame, no attention was drawn to the Catholic values, contemporary social teaching, tradition, and symbols that so greatly informed the revolutionary spirit.

The documentary accomplished quite a lot in 70 minutes of screen time. The speakers managed to capture much of the complexity of the Irish political milieu in the early 20th century, which makes the subsequent Irish revolutionary and political history so peculiar. Try to explain to an American audience a government system dominated by two parties that are not distinguished by a liberal-conservative categorization! The documentary explicated well how nationalist Irish men, who would have self-identified as Irish Volunteers, could be fighting on the Western Front under the Union Jack, while their brothers and sisters at home, also calling themselves Irish Volunteers, would be raising a Tri-Colour in place of the British Flag.

However, the importance of remarking on their Catholic faith is precisely because their Catholic values and principles were not ancillary to their political and social ideals. The witness of these men shows that the best religious spirit is not confined to some private dimension of the soul or individual actions undertaken in isolation from the arena of every other human action. These were the revolutionary radicals of their time, the agitators for reform and recognition of human dignity.

The documentary film saw the necessity of highlighting the socialist and Enlightenment ideals from the Continent, which were inspirational to the men and women of 1916—but surely their Catholic ideals deserved equal recognition? For perhaps the most remarkable element of this Irish incarnation of the revolutionary spirit was that these movements, socialism and the Enlightenment, which were almost synonymous with atheistic and anti-Church sentiment, could find an Irish expression that was thoroughly Catholic. It is proof that the ideals of political progress are not necessarily incompatible with the Catholic faith. Rather, for these men and women, their best aspects found an echo in Catholic social thought, sacrificial theology, and teachings on human freedom and dignity.

Any account of 1916 is incomplete without some recognition of the Catholic spirit that infused the men and women of the Rising. If anything of the centenary celebrations captures this, it was to be seen in the awarding of the freedom of Dublin city to the last surviving child of an executed 1916 leader.

In his last letter to his family, Michael Mallin expressed his hopes for his young children. Did he ask for them to study carefully the teachings of the Enlightenment thinkers? Or to follow in his footsteps and pick up a rifle to fight for a socialist Irish republic? Did he dream for them to be democratic leaders in an independent Ireland? No—to his youngest son he said, “Joseph, my little man, be a priest if you can.”

The fact that the now 102 year-old Fr. Joseph Mallin, SJ, was preceded into the Jesuits by his brother Sean, while one of his other three siblings joined the Loreto order, shows that Michael’s hopes were not unreasonable. Are my hopes for a Notre Dame production to give more attention to this dimension of the Rising not equally reasonable? We should be only too delighted to show that a lively Catholic spirit has always campaigned against social and political oppression.

Cathal Kelleher, CSC, is a seminarian at Moreau Seminary and a student in the Master of Divinity Program at Notre Dame.