The GAA and the Poor Clares

(The Nationalist, 15 October 1999)

 

One of my fellow Capuchins was in the barber’s recently waiting to get his hair cut. Another client, who had arrived before him, was also waiting and passed the time airing his opinions on politicians, both local and national. He held firm views as to their legitimacy and honesty – or lack of it. He brought his denunciation to a climax by saying, ‘I couldn’t care less what the whole shower of them do, as long as they leave us the GAA and the Poor Clares!’ And then he went and had his hair cut.

It wasn’t Ger Loughnane’s Poor Clares he had in mind, but those who live in the convent in Graigecullen. What could it have been that sparked off such an unusual declaration of loyalties, I wonder?

Politics are about power, management and control. The GAA and the Poor Clares are about playing and praying, which are activities of a different sort. They are activities that don’t count for much when weighed on the scales of efficiency and productivity, but they do bring people together and create a sense of community among them. They help people to relax and to get in touch with themselves, to see themselves as they really are, and to see how they relate to other people. They help people to challenge themselves and to see how they can grow and develop and become more fully human. They are about relationships more than about doing jobs or fulfilling functions.

Playing and praying are activities that have a lot in common: they both demand practice, discipline and regular effort. They involve forgetting about oneself in the interests of the team or the group. There’s a lot of learning in them; they don’t just come naturally.

Politics are necessary and not to be disparaged, and we live in a country which, despite everything, has been well served by its politicians. They are not a bunch of self-serving opportunists as we sometimes brand them with our tendency to generalize, exaggerate, and – unfortunately – condemn.

We need the GAA and the Poor Clares, but we need the politicians, too. It’s not either-or; it’s both-and. Each one complements the other. Taken together they represent an integrated approach to life, not one that limps on one leg. We need the skills of the politician, as we must earn the bread and butter that sustain life. But we do not live by bread alone. We also need to be able to unwind, to be human, to have time for one another. An unknown poet has put it better than I can:

‘Take time to think: it is the source of power.
Take time to play: it is the secret of perpetual youth.
Take time to read: it is the fountain of wisdom.
Take time to pray: it is the greatest power on earth.
Take time to love and to be loved: it is a God-given privilege.
Take time to be friendly: it is the road to happiness.
Take time to laugh: it is the music of the soul.
Take time to give: it is too short a day to be selfish.
Take time to work: it is the price of success.
Take time to do charity: it is the key to heaven.’