United furious over referee’s comments after Drogheda game

Date Published: {J}

It’s extraordinary how we appear to get what one could describe as ‘seasons’ when what are claimed to be ‘spiritual events’ take place – whether it’s moving statues in Ballinspittle, or the Virgin Mary allegedly appearing at Knock.

In the case of the latter, another visit seems to be scheduled for early December, so it’s possible that, despite the active discouragement of the Archbishop of Tuam, thousands will again be in Knock.

These ‘events’ take all sorts of forms. For instance, not too many years ago there were regular claims of the appearance of what could only be described as ‘shapes’ on the inside wall of a church in County Galway. That was in Fahy, off the main Galway-Dublin road and not too far from Loughrea.

Many hundreds of people went to the local small church to see what looked, essentially, like an imperfection in a wall, but which it was claimed had a greater significance. Prayers were offered and special devotions were held, and ‘divil the bit of harm’ was in any of it, though to describe it as any way linked to extraordinary happenings, would be fanciful indeed. Well, perhaps it was extraordinary that so many were praying.

Like many another curious observer, I went along there as a reporter for this newspaper, and for radio. What I found was that a huge congregation had gathered, there was much praying and supplication for petitions, and one would need a pretty active imagination to see anything special about the staining on the wall. It just seemed like a damp spot!If I never had the experience of seeing nothing in Fahy, I still don’t think that I would have had to have been in Knock one weekend recently to be convinced that it was probably unlikely that the Virgin Mary would appear in the sun.

But, provided that no one was being duped, that the occasion was not being exploited in some way, or that the crowds not dangerous, the event seemed surely harmless. The official Church, of course, must discourage such occurrences lest we go down the road of apparitions at every crossroads. There seems little doubt that it will, eventually, go the way of all such alleged happenings . . . well, Ballinspittle is now no more than a quirky folk memory built around a particularly wet Summer.

Obviously, over the centuries, there have been remarkable happenings and ones that are much more enduring and difficult to explain, but it would appear that attempting to be in touch with the spiritual world, or something less wordly than the world in which we live, is a lot less dramatic and requires a lot more hard work that simply hopping into your car on a Sunday afternoon and ‘going to see the apparition’.

There seems little doubt that the gathering of people can engender a special atmosphere – no one would claim miracle working in the case of the Solemn Novena, for instance, but yet the coming together of many can be uplifting for even the most cynical amongst us. In parts of the ceremony, such as the reading of petitions dealing with illness, especially child illness, a communal wish for something can be a powerful and moving experience.

I remember that at the Papal Mass in Ballybrit, the momentary ‘oneness’ of perhaps quarter of a million people, did generate something special – a palpable ‘electricity’ in the air. Was it a chemistry, proximity of so many people, or something else that made it particularly moving? My recollection is that, momentarily, it awed even hardened international newsmen from around the world who were gathered into a special press area.

A short time later they were shrugging their shoulders, calling it good theatre, and cynical again, but any of them with the mind to admit it knew that, for a few seconds, they had a special experience. Of course, they explained it away as ‘all those kids singing and going crazy about this guy in white at the centre of a piece of magnificent theatre’. Well it was that – or face a much more profound question.

I have to be careful at this point about my perceived reputation as something of a practising agnostic. My religion, I’m afraid, tends to wax and wane, like many a one, based on the degree to which I find myself in trouble, unwell, or in need of something urgently from God, or whoever. It could be Padre Pio, St Anthony, Jose Maria Escriva (the Opus Dei founder), or any other intermediary in the calendar of saints.

Having heard the petitions at the Novena, and seen the supplications which can be anything from a recommended prayer, to a rag tied on to a tree beside a holy well, I no longer simply dismiss these things as I once did. Can it be that, as one gets slightly older, and perhaps more subject to the infirmities which life can hurl in one’s direction, one becomes more receptive to the idea that help may come from whatever quarter and one should never rule it out.

There is also the point that some of the places associated with a muttered prayer, are amongst the most tranquil in a world that can sometimes be fairly strident. Take for instance the St Nicholas Collegiate Church in the very centre of Galway – perhaps it is the sheer passage of so many years which radiates from the walls that makes this such a quiet place. A place where – dare I say it – one might pray!

The older I get, the more I tend to go with the idea that life is a deal more complicated that I thought not too many years ago. For instance, not too very long ago I would have dismissed the whole world of alternative and complementary medicine as mumbo jumbo. Not anymore. So, if there’s an alleged happening in Knock which everyone else dismisses . . . I’ll be sceptical, but I’ll go with the idea of diversity.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”