Cathedral abuzz with an excited congregation

IT is half past one on Sunday. The sky is blue and a light breeze is gently fluttering the bunting outside Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral in Ennis. People are already arriving in their finery, men in suits and women in a fog of dusty pinks, muted purples, pale oranges and muffled greens. They are the embodiment of conservative vibrancy, of subdued joy.

Passers-by would be forgiven for thinking it is a wedding. Anything more than a cursory glance would reveal, however, that it is more. Ennis Brass Band is setting up outside the main entrance and there are a few too many men in uniforms walking around for this to be a regular ceremony.
There is a hurry about those arriving. They glance at their watches and move swiftly towards the front door of the cathedral. It is now 1.50pm. The ceremony isn’t starting for over an hour and while it is an all-ticket affair, seating is not allocated. The worry is that there may be no room at the inn, so it is every man for himself in the search for accommodation in the house of God.
Inside the cathedral there is a buzz, in the literal and metaphorical senses. There is a chatter as friends and neighbours meet on this big day. People are smiling and there is an air of excitement, an air even of optimism.
There is no sign here of shame, no heads held low. It is a sunny day in the depths of a long dark winter for Catholics in the diocese. They, like their counterparts across the country and overseas, have suffered through scandals when their religion must sometimes have seemed like the cross they had to bear. Today is a celebration.
It is 2.10pm and the cathedral is filling up. The Cois na hAbhna Comhaltas Group is playing and both the atmosphere and temperature is warming up. An army of bishops and priests wearing traditional white vestments with blue embellishment are lining the pews in the building’s transepts. A special delivery from Knock it is said, the vestments that is, not the religious.
As 3pm approaches, the dignitaries arrive. There are ministers, TDs and councillors in suits and chains of office as well as representatives of the Taoiseach and the President. There are also scouts, children in t-shirts and huge numbers of the bishop-elect’s family and friends.
Fr Kieran O’Reilly enters the church after a long line of altar servers, priests, bishops, archbishops, a cardinal and representatives of other Christian churches. He is beaming. The cathedral is filled with sound, as musicians and singers begin to perform vigorously.
It is a wedding of sorts, as Fr Tim Cullinane, SMA, outlines in his homily. He feels, he says, like the father of the bride giving Bishop Elect O’Reilly from the SMA family to a new family, the diocese of Killaloe.
“While he will always be a member of our family, the relationship will now be different as he becomes part of a new family,” he comments.
The ceremony gives a nod to both the new bishop’s Irish and African experiences, a coming together of two traditions like that of two families.
Juxtaposed with Irish music from fiddles and bodhrans is traditional Zulu drumming and song. As well as Irish dancing, featuring girls in radiant red and green glittering dresses, there is an African dancer wearing a brown costume no less radiant or glittering. There is a particularly notable blend of the Irish and the exotic in the flowers that adorn the pillars in the chancel and during a part of the ceremony when an ornate multicoloured tapestry is draped across the altar.
The ceremony glides on in a fiesta of music, song, dance and prayer before Kieran O’Reilly lies prostrate on the floor and a flurry of photographers grapple for the best shot of this the most visual of the ceremony’s rituals. He waits there as no less than 59 saints are invoked before Archbishop Dermot Clifford and all other bishops present lay their hands on the head of the newest Irish bishop, calling the Holy Spirit to come down upon him.
As the archbishop places the mitre on Bishop O’Reilly’s head, there is a moment caused by what one member of the congregation calls “the human element”. The mitre is back to front. The archbishop laughs gently as he realises and rotates the symbolic hat.
While it is Bishop O’Reilly’s day, Bishop Willie Walsh is far from forgotten, receiving rapturous applause at every mention of his name. It is not, however, until the two hug during Bishop O’Reilly’s address that the congregation really shows its appreciation with a standing ovation.
It is now 5.30pm and the wooden seats have proved a penance for the bodies that found room on them. For the people standing or sitting on steps, arguably their punishment is more severe. Despite this there are no serious complaints as the congregation makes its way out of the cathedral under the leadership of its new bishop.
It is still bright and breezy as people disperse, perhaps as Bishop O’Reilly suggested in his address, to travel the road of Robert Frost’s masterpiece, the one less travelled.