The silence of this shameful time needed to be ‘shattered’
Tomorrow, Dermot Farrell will become the new Archbishop of Dublin, a role that comes at a very difficult time for the Church, but one for which he insists he’s ready
BACK in mid-December, Bishop Dermot Farrell received a phone call from the apostolic nuncio to Ireland, Archbishop Jude Thaddeus Okolo. The Pope’s representative was ringing to set up a meeting with the Bishop of Ossory at his earliest convenience.
Bishop Farrell must have had a good idea of what the Archbishop was planning to discuss. Yet when the offer of the position of Archbishop of Dublin was put to him, he was still taken aback.
‘It’s a shock, you’re trying to get your head around it,’ he says. ‘You’re wondering will you be able to take on this ministry you’ve been asked to take on. You’re praying that your health will hold up and you try to respond generously to these invitations, because it is an invitation.’
It’s a fairly significant promotion. But for almost three weeks he could tell no one.
‘I found out in mid-December, so it was a lovely Christmas present,’ he says. ‘But you’re asked to keep it confidential, until the date of the formal announcement made by the Holy See on December 29. So I had to keep it to myself for nearly three weeks — it doesn’t help the digestion of your Christmas dinner.’
The Archbishop-elect now moves from his current home in Kilkenny, where he has served as the Bishop of Ossory for the last three years, to Dublin. Covid-19 restrictions have meant the handover between himself and now-retired Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has been a little more complicated than normal.
‘We met on the day we made the announcement,’ he says. ‘But because of all the restrictions it’s quite difficult. Usually you’d be up and down to Dublin a bit, discussing the handover and the arrangements, so that has to be done on Zoom or over the phone.
‘I’m Zoomed out of it at this stage, but that’s been the case since last March and the last lockdown. But you can see what happens when you don’t control the virus, it goes wild.’
It’s not ideal, especially as the Archbishop-elect has a pretty daunting task ahead. Not only is he taking over Ireland’s most high-profile ministry in the middle of a pandemic, but there are also the huge ongoing challenges that the Catholic Church here faces — not least the devastating legacy of mother and baby homes that were run by religious orders. Our lengthy phone interview takes place several days before the final report by the Commission of Investigation in the homes is released.
But after it was published I went back to ask if he’d had a chance to read the report yet, what he felt about the stories included in it, whether or not he felt the apologies by various orders went far enough and what he believes the Catholic Church needs to do help repair some of the damage done.
‘The Archbishop is reading the document, and obviously, this will take time,’ read the reply. ‘He is deeply moved by the very human and troubling stories that it contains. His thoughts in the first instance are with those who lived in these homes — those who needed help most but for whom the Church and society failed.
‘Archbishop Farrell feels that the silence which surrounded this shameful time in the history of our land had long needed to be shattered, and that true healing will only be possible when what happened is properly acknowledged.
‘He noted that our country, our Church, our communities and our families are better places when the light of truth and healing are welcomed. In time and with honest engagement he hopes some healing of these deep scars can occur.’
He has his work cut out for him. There is, understandably, a tremendous amount of anger out there, most of it directed at the Catholic Church. It perhaps doesn’t help that there are a significant number of clergymen in Ireland who are old enough to have been around when these homes were still up and running.
What they knew and what part some of them played in these places, the last of which closed in 1998, is still a question that many want answered.
Then there are the other issues the new Archbishop faces, including the age profile of his priests — half of the Dublin diocese’s clergy are 70 years or older — while dwindling congregations have seen Church finances plummet in recent decades, making the day-to-day running of individual parishes almost impossible.
Farrell has already acknowledged that parishes are facing some big changes — such as possible amalgamations — but he insists all future decisions will be done in consultation with priests and parishioners.
It’s going to be a massive workload but the 66-year-old does not seem fazed, possibly because he is already well used to working hard. His career to date is varied and impressive. A former president of St Patrick’s College, Maynooth, he also served as parish priest of Dunboyne and Kilbride from 2007 to 2018, when he was appointed
Parishes are facing some big changes
the Bishop of Ossory. Other work includes roles on various boards and committees, including the board of Allianz plc and the governing body of the National University of Ireland, Maynooth. He was also national director of the Permanent Diaconate for ten years and has held a number of roles in the Irish bishops’ conference. This industriousness was most likely nurtured during his childhood, which was spent on his parents’ farm in Garthy near Castletown-Geoghegan in Co. Westmeath. The eldest of seven children, he helped out daily with the animals, from milking cows to pulling calves in the spring. There were five sisters and two brothers in the family. When he was seven years old, one of his sisters, Regina, died aged three, from a congenital condition. As a teenager he boarded at Saint Finian’s College in Mullingar, which is where he decided to go to the seminary. ‘It wasn’t unusual back then, quite a number of my classmates went into the priesthood,’ he says.
‘Some into religious orders, others into secular priesthood. In those days, 1972, which is almost 50 years ago, it was a different world, there was great support from parents and community.
‘Of my Leaving Cert class, five of us went to Maynooth seminary, of the 64 who went in that year. My parents never questioned my decision, no. My mother was always very strong on the importance of education, but once we decided whatever we decided to do, my parents never questioned it.
‘We all took off in different directions. My brother is a farmer, he took over the family farm and my four sisters are all involved in the medical profession. All of them are still working, it’s very tough at the moment, as you can imagine.
‘Two of them trained as nurses, they’re now in management, one is a paediatrician and the youngest is a biochemist. These are difficult times for them, they worked incredible hours during the last lockdown because of shortage of staff, often from 7am till 10pm. One of them was a Covid-19
co-ordinator for one of the large city hospitals.’
He returns as often as he can to the family home, where his brother and his family now live. ‘We’re very blessed that we’re all very close,’ he says. ‘As a priest you’re conscious that’s a great gift, it’s not always the case. We used to meet regularly [pre-Covid]. We keep in contact on the phone now.’
The Archbishop-elect has 13 nieces and nephews and says he has never regretted not having any children of his own, or not marrying. ‘I was always happy with the decision I made – one knew from the outset there was a sacrifice in that,’ he says. ‘You were giving up something, there’s a value in that. And, thanks be to God, I never regretted it.’
While his parents, Dermot and Carmel, would have been undoubtedly delighted to see his most recent appointment, he says they weren’t the type to boast about their children’s accomplishments.
‘My dad died in 2006, but had he still been alive, I think he would have said his prayers,’ says the Archbishop-elect. ‘He wouldn’t have been impressed by titles. My mam died in September 2019 of cancer at the age of 91 — she was alive when I was appointed Bishop of Ossory and that was a nice day for her. She wasn’t jumping up and down, ringing all the neighbours, that wasn’t her style.
‘But I’m sure privately, in her heart, she was pleased.’
The Archbishop-elect is also modest about his achievements.
‘I’ve always tried to stay grounded, no matter what ministry I found myself in,’ he says.
‘Whether teaching in Maynooth, or as the president there, or as the parish priest in Dunboyne, I was always happy in those positions.
My attitude is whatever role I find myself in, I move into it and inhabit that position. Be happy where you are, live in the moment, that’s what the Lord is asking you to do and to do it to the best of your ability, so that has always been my attitude.
‘I’ve always been content, not thinking about where I’m going to next. I came here [Kilkenny] three years ago and I was happy to be buried here. I enjoy life here, that’s what I saw in front of me, I wasn’t thinking I was going to be in Dublin, or anywhere else.’
Archbishop-elect Farrell will now have to get used to his future decisions and actions receiving a lot more attention. ‘There is more observation than you might get as a priest,’ he agrees. ‘There is more national scrutiny and that does bring a certain pressure.’
He already has some experience of dealing with the fallout of some of the Church’s darker chapters. During his time as president of Maynooth, it emerged that his predecessor, Monsignor Micheal Ledwith, had faced allegations of sexual abuse of a minor. Ledwith, who unexpectedly resigned his post in 1994, denied the allegations. Dermot Farrell was vicepresident at the time of Ledwith’s resignation but has said he only learned of the allegations in 2002, after queries from the media and when he was tasked with ‘trying to assemble what the facts were’.
He says he is ready to take on his new leadership role and do what is needed to guide the diocese through whatever difficulties it faces. ‘Archbishop [Diarmuid] Martin has had to make hard calls,’ he says. ‘In leadership, whether in the Church or in business, the buck stops with the top. One of the things that kills or paralyses an administration, is when you can’t make decisions.
‘Decisions have to be just and honest, and they have to be made. They just tend to be a bit more high-profile the higher you go. Some of them end up in the public domain and they end up being controversial. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have the courage to make the decision if it’s the right one, if it’s the right thing to do.’
Throughout all the scandals has his own faith ever been tested?
‘I’ve been blessed to have a strong faith,’ he says. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with having it tested, it deepens it. The Church was born in crisis, the death of Jesus was a major crisis. So the Church shouldn’t be afraid of crisis, neither should a priest or a bishop. Because faith and courage go hand-inhand. The person of courage does know the fear, but he’s not determined by it or totally paralysed by it. All the major saints had huge courage, they put their lives on the line. That’s where the real power is, rather than just institutional power. All of us have to see that God is bigger than any of us.’
Those hoping for his support in any major changes to the structure of the Church will be disappointed. Despite chronic clergy shortages, there will be no calls for the introduction of women priests.
‘We understand priesthood is based on the revealed word of God,’ he explains. ‘It’s tied to the unique priesthood of Jesus Christ. So as we see it, it’s instituted by Jesus Christ, it’s not invented by the Church. The Church can’t change priesthood, it doesn’t have that power. As Catholics, what we believe is that Jesus chose his 12 apostles and then they chose collaborators to succeed them in their ministry. And they were men. For that reason the ordination of women is not possible.’
He is also steadfast in his belief that divorced people remarrying and same-sex couples should not be granted blessings within the Catholic Church, as they could be misconstrued as the sacrament of marriage. Although these kinds of restrictions can make it difficult for people to commit to Catholicism, he makes no apologies.
‘The Church has no desire just to baptise people who don’t really want it,’ he says. ‘We are interested in people who practise and are committed to their faith. But there is also recognition that there are different levels of commitment.
‘There are people who are daily Mass-goers, some are weekly. I live close to the cathedral here in Kilkenny. I see lots of people go in every day quietly, kneel at the back or light a candle to say a prayer. People you wouldn’t necessarily ever see on a Sunday. Who’s drawing them in? The Lord.’
While gathering for Mass is currently banned under the restrictions, he believes people can take huge comfort in hope and prayer.
‘The Mass dimension is gone for the moment and it does make it harder, of course it does,’ he says. ‘But it’s not just about missing church, it’s about missing family, children and grandchildren. There’s huge isolation and there’s a fear factor. As we know from the first round, the people who paid the biggest price were the older generation.
‘But maybe Covid is a teacher as well, things we maybe thought were important last January don’t seem that important now. We’ve also maybe discovered we’re not as in charge as we thought we were.’
The Archbishop-elect does fervently believe, however, that brighter times are ahead.
‘Don’t lose hope, it’s so important,’ he says. ‘When we lose hope it’s detrimental to our health. There is a vaccination, it will come to an end. Winter will pass, we shouldn’t forget that.’
TOMORROW at 10.30am Mass in St Mary’s Pro Cathedral in Dublin, Dermot Farrell will formally become the new Archbishop of the Dublin diocese.
‘The Church shouldn’t be afraid of crisis’