A troubled soul in a lost limbo of piety and love

Country Living with Francis Farragher

It was one of those Rubicon days in the social history of Ireland – May 6, 1992, when word eventually broke that the Bishop of Galway, Eamonn Casey was resigning from his position for ‘political reasons’.

In the wake of the announcement that night, one of the biggest stories in Irish life was about to be revealed – that of an Irish Bishop fathering a child by a woman he had a relationship with 17 years ago.

As the story was beginning to unfold, Eamonn Casey was being whisked through Shannon Airport to be taken away from the eye of the storm, in a manner that characterised so many Church cover-ups down through the years.

In the greater context of the child sex abuse scandals that have emerged in the 25 years since the Bishop’s exile, his ‘crime’ – for want of a better word – has pretty much slipped down the radar.

He had a relationship with a woman he knew . . . for a time at least they obviously fell in love . . . nature took its course, and back in 1975, Annie Murphy, gave birth to their son, Peter.

A story as old as time itself but of course what followed in terms of the cover-up, the money taken out of Church funds by the Bishop, and the waft of hypocrisy that hung over the whole episode, was where the real damage was done.

In 1992, we hadn’t entered the era of social media or instant communications and the scoop of the century in terms of a news story was carried by the Irish Times. For lesser and more local media organisations, it was a story to be covered with the utmost caution.

I remember a strange mid-week morning in the Connacht Tribune just as the story broke – a paper that historically would have close links to the Catholic Church – when the topic of Eamonn Casey was discussed only in very hushed tones.

Back in the 1920s, ‘30s and ‘40s, the Chairman of the Connacht Tribune Board, was a man with the title of ‘The Very Reverend Canon A. J. Nestor, so, as in almost every other aspect of Irish life during those sad and very oppressive times, the Church ruled the roost – to some extent at least – in many media outlets.

In the ensuing weeks, the story of the Bishop’s resignation was covered, but still with some trepidation as the feeling still persisted that a giant rock, embedded in the heart of Irish society, had been jolted from its resting place.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune