1916 Easter Rising Commemmoration

Discussion in 'Ireland' started by Krizevac, Mar 13, 2016.

  1. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    Our Mass leaflet today contained some reflections on the spirituality of the men who fought for our freedom:

    The centenary of the Easter Rising marks the watershed moment of our political history. This pivotal anniversary provides an opportunity for us learn from the faith and courage of the people who made freedom possible.

     Fr Aloysius heard James Connolly’s last confession in the hours before he was shot, stood behind the firing party as Connolly was placed on a chair and executed and remarked afterwards, “It was a scene I should not ask to witness again. I had got to know Connolly – to wonder at his strength of character……(and) now I had to say goodbye”

     Padraig Pearse was willing to pay the ultimate price with his life and reflected on the circumstances of his own mother – who lost two sons in the Rising – like Mary at the foot of the cross

     Roger Casement formally embraced Catholicism and receiving his first Holy Communion just before his execution

     Con Colbert told a prisoner that he expected to be executed and added “We are all ready to meet our God”

     Seán Heuston recited acts of faith, hope, love and contrition as he faced his death at just 25 years of age

     Thomas Clarke – of whom there was little evidence of faith - refused to repudiate his involvement in the Rising. He said “I was not sorry for what I had done…..I was not going to face my God with a lie on my tongue”

     Thomas Kent entrusted one of his prized possessions – his temperance badge – to a local priest

     Seán MacDiarmada said he bore no malice to any man and “I die in perfect peace with Almighty God”

     Joseph Plunkett in his last words to Fr. O’Brien said “Father, I am very happy. I am dying for the glory of God and the honour of Ireland."
    maryrose, josephite, Denise P and 2 others like this.
  2. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    I once toured Kilmainham Jail (where the rebels were shot after surrender) and I will never forget going through the entrance. I wasn't reflecting on where I was going at all - I was busy herding my kids, completely distracted, when I was almost stopped in my tracks by the overwhelming feeling of sadness. My whole being felt as though I was going in there to die. Never felt anything like it, before or since.
    josephite and Bella like this.
  3. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    The Mother - Poem by Patrick Henry Pearse

    I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge
    My two strong sons that I have seen go out
    To break their strength and die, they and a few,
    In bloody protest for a glorious thing,
    They shall be spoken of among their people,
    The generations shall remember them,
    And call them blessed;
    But I will speak their names to my own heart
    In the long nights;
    The little names that were familiar once
    Round my dead hearth.
    Lord, thou art hard on mothers:
    We suffer in their coming and their going;
    And tho' I grudge them not, I weary, weary
    Of the long sorrow-And yet I have my joy:
    My sons were faithful, and they fought.

    Patrick Henry Pearse

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  4. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    I wonder what reflections Padraig would write as his mother's now, if he could see Ireland today. What was it all for?
    josephite likes this.
  5. Bella

    Bella Guest

    I totally understand. I felt exactly the same. Did you see the fresco on the cell wall that one of the prisoners had painted of Our Lady ? My children and I said a decade of the rosary in there. I'm certain that we will see more of this in the future.
    josephite, little me and Krizevac like this.
  6. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    I don't remember that, but I do remember the little chapel where Joseph Plunkett married Grace Gifford before he was shot. How strange for those young people, strange times, strange circumstances.

    " Seven hours before his execution by firing squad at the age of 28, he was married in the prison chapel to his sweetheart Grace Gifford, a Protestant convert to Catholicism, whose sister, Muriel, had years before also converted and married his best friend Thomas MacDonagh, who was also executed for his role in the Easter Rising." (Wikipedia)
    josephite likes this.
  7. miker

    miker Powers

    Thanks for sharing this beautiful memory and poem. My grandfather was part of the uprising. I don't know much of his story as he didn't say much about it. I know he was a captain and fought for the freedom of Ireland. He was never a big fan of the British :) ( no offense to any of my UK brother and sisters). Since he had a price on his head, he secretly escaped first to Canada and eventually to NY which is why I'm here . In any case, my grandfather lived a good life. His two brothers stayed remained single and continued to run the family farm. It wasn't until the 1960's that my grandfather felt the price was off his head and he returned home for visits. A lasting impression I had of him was in his casket. He had medals for his heroics on his chest and both the Irish Tri-color and the Stars and Stripes on the casket. He never forgot Ireland and loved this beautiful land. He loved his new home equally the same. It's why Ireland and my Irish heritage is important to me. I feel it's part of my soul. Please say a prayer for my grandpa - he was a good Irish-American man.
  8. miker

    miker Powers

    Easter 1916- W.B. Yeats

    I have met them at close of day
    Coming with vivid faces
    From counter or desk among grey
    Eighteenth-century houses.
    I have passed with a nod of the head
    Or polite meaningless words,
    Or have lingered awhile and said
    Polite meaningless words,
    And thought before I had done
    Of a mocking tale or a gibe
    To please a companion
    Around the fire at the club,
    Being certain that they and I
    But lived where motley is worn:
    All changed, changed utterly:
    A terrible beauty is born.


    That woman's days were spent
    In ignorant good will,
    Her nights in argument
    Until her voice grew shrill.
    What voice more sweet than hers
    When young and beautiful,
    She rode to harriers?
    This man had kept a school
    And rode our winged horse.
    This other his helper and friend
    Was coming into his force;
    He might have won fame in the end,
    So sensitive his nature seemed,
    So daring and sweet his thought.
    This other man I had dreamed
    A drunken, vain-glorious lout.
    He had done most bitter wrong
    To some who are near my heart,
    Yet I number him in the song;
    He, too, has resigned his part
    In the casual comedy;
    He, too, has been changed in his turn,
    Transformed utterly:
    A terrible beauty is born.


    Hearts with one purpose alone
    Through summer and winter, seem
    Enchanted to a stone
    To trouble the living stream.
    The horse that comes from the road,
    The rider, the birds that range
    From cloud to tumbling cloud,
    Minute by minute change.
    A shadow of cloud on the stream
    Changes minute by minute;
    A horse-hoof slides on the brim;
    And a horse plashes within it
    Where long-legged moor-hens dive
    And hens to moor-cocks call.
    Minute by minute they live:
    The stone's in the midst of all.


    Too long a sacrifice
    Can make a stone of the heart.
    O when may it suffice?
    That is heaven's part, our part
    To murmur name upon name,
    As a mother names her child
    When sleep at last has come
    On limbs that had run wild.
    What is it but nightfall?
    No, no, not night but death.
    Was it needless death after all?
    For England may keep faith
    For all that is done and said.
    We know their dream; enough
    To know they dreamed and are dead.
    And what if excess of love
    Bewildered them till they died?
    I write it out in a verse --
    MacDonagh and MacBride
    And Connolly and Pearse
    Now and in time to be,
    Wherever green is worn,
    Are changed, changed utterly:
    A terrible beauty is born.

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  9. padraig

    padraig Powers

    I am more and mor inclined to think that it is all about God, all things and everything. My mind and heart turn more and more towards Him to the exclusion of all else.

    I think we will all see this clearly in the time before our leaving this place.

    St Teresa of Avila said that life is but a short night in a bad hotel. How true.
  10. Indy

    Indy Praying

    I often think of the men who were executed as part of the Easter 1916 rising as an Easter sacrifice for Ireland. I believe they knew that they were possibly going to me martyred that Easter and freely gave their life's for their country and people. They did not have much of a chance against the might and artillery of the British army, without even one machine gun, their martyrdom did more harm to the british empire than and any other war Britain fought.
  11. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    I wonder, if I lived back then, would I have been in support of a bloody insurrection. Don't think I would have been able for the loss of life.

    These men risked their lives for Irish freedom though and I can't help saluting them. There is a tricolour hanging from our house this weekend. But what was it all for, Ireland is being sold off wholesale.
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  12. padraig

    padraig Powers

    Yes, the devil owns this world, but not the next
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  13. "Quis ut Deus"

    "Quis ut Deus" Powers Staff Member

    And don't forget the little poem on the last page of the legion of Mary book which was wrote by Joseph Mary Plunkett himself,a quote from the poem is in the song called grace.. I loved so much that I could see his blood upon the rose..:love:

    I See His Blood Upon The Rose

    I see his blood upon the rose
    And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
    His body gleams amid eternal snows,
    His tears fall from the skies.

    I see his face in every flower;
    The thunder and the singing of the birds
    Are but his voice-and carven by his power
    Rocks are his written words.

    All pathways by his feet are worn,
    His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
    His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
    His cross is every tree.

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  14. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    Thankyou, that is one of my favourite poems, I didn't know it was written by the same Joseph Plunkett!
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  15. "Quis ut Deus"

    "Quis ut Deus" Powers Staff Member

    In my opinion Joseph Mary Plunkett was a martyr . he wrote a book of poems called "The Circle and the Sword" along with I see his blood upon the rose my other favourite poem of his was the stars sang in God's Garden.

    The stars sang in God’s garden;
    The stars are the birds of God;
    The night-time is God’s harvest,
    Its fruits are the words of God.

    God ploughed His fields at morning,
    God sowed His seed at noon,
    God reaped and gathered in His corn
    With the rising of the moon.

    The sun rose up at midnight,
    The sun rose red as blood,
    It showed the Reaper, the dead Christ,
    Upon His cross of wood.

    For many live that one may die,
    And one must die that many live—
    The stars are silent in the sky
    Lest my poor songs be fugitive.

    Joseph Mary Plunkett

    His book of poems can be read here https://archive.org/stream/circleswordpoems00pluniala#page/n7/mode/2up
    Krizevac, Sam, maryrose and 1 other person like this.
  16. Julia

    Julia Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us.

    It breaks my heart when I think of the price those brave hearts paid for the 'freedom of Ireland' when you think the Irish government sold Ireland for 30 pieces of European silver when they signed over their freedom to the EU.

    The devil was surely in the details. And a country which could never support her own citizens is flooded with refugees. Sad irony.
    Krizevac likes this.
  17. Krizevac

    Krizevac Archangels

    It baffled and frustrated me for some time. Why were our Government so greedy and so in cahoots with bankers and mega corporations as to turn a blind eye to the sick and homeless and the needs of the people who elected them, and instead sell Ireland off? The media are hand in hand with the money makers. Also, what about 'The Fighting Irish'? Instead of shouting from the rooftops about these things, there is such apathy, and so few people (although the number is growing), who are willing to point out the injustice.

    But now I see it at last. We have the Government we deserve. How terrifying is that.

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