(The Nationalist, 02 June 2006)
Recently, an RTÉ 1 TV programme told the story of the O’Connor family of Scarteen, County Kerry, and their tragic situation of eighty-five years ago. Two sons of the family, Tom and John, had fought for Irish freedom in the War of Independence. But when the Treaty was signed on 6 December 1921, a division arose between its supporters and its opponents.
This led to Civil War, and deep divisions between the two sides. In Irish, the civil war is known as “Cogadh na g-Carad” – the war of the friends. That’s what it was, a war between people who had been friends, comrades-in-arms, and even brothers. A civil war is always more bitter than any other. While people unite against a common external enemy, a civil war tears friends and families apart.
In the situation in Scarteen, Tom and John O’Connor supported the Treaty. Most local people opposed it. In the early hours of the morning, the two brothers were shot dead by local opponents of the Treaty.
A little later, the local priest went to their parents’ home. The task fell to him of being the bearer of the bad news of the sons’ death. When their mother, Mrs. O’Connor, saw the priest coming, her immediate reaction was one of fear that Tom had been killed. The truth, of course, was worse: Tom had been killed, but his brother John, also – and by local people.
Mrs. O’Connor then did something remarkable for its generosity and even heroism. Instead of giving way to anger or bitterness – which would have been understandable in the circumstances – she asked the priest to offer Mass for the souls of those who had killed her sons. It was an extraordinarily large-hearted act which showed huge spiritual strength on her part. Few people could have brought themselves to do something so charitable and noble. She was clearly a person of real greatness of spirit to be able to do that.
Her story is easy to tell, but difficult to imitate – whatever the circumstances. Yet how liberating it was for her! How much better to do what she did than to hold onto anger, nursing a grievance, living on the bitter memories of the past, locked in a prison of animosity or self-pity. Had she done otherwise than she did, it could have destroyed her. By doing as she did, she was free from the past to live in the present and for the future.
‘Those whose sins you forgive, they are forgive; those whose sins you retain, they are retained’ – in yourself. (John 20.23)
For those in a hurry: ‘Words are under your control until you have spoken them, but you come under their control once you have spoken them.’ (Hadrat Ali, a Sufi mystic, Living and Dying with Grace: Counsels of Hadrat Ali, Shambhala, Boston, 1995)