Hailing Jane
In a memorable exchange with his Jesus-lovin' father-in-law, Larry David (the "fictional" Curb Your Enthusiasm version) speculated on what it might take for him to get enthusiastic about the Christian God(s):
"Y'see, I could see worshipping Jesus if he were a girl. Like if God had a daughter. Jane. I'll worship a Jane. But. y'know, to worship a guy…it's like a little, kinda, gay, isn't it?"
In reality, of course, "Jane" (sort of) exists. In fact, she's probably one of the most popular sort-of-existing entities in Ireland. Except here she's better (and more formally) known as "Our Lady". Or (if you're feeling acronymous) the BVM.1
The BVM may not be God's daughter exactly (well, simultaneously daughter, mother and…er…"partner"), but she otherwise fulfils a pretty "Jane"-like role. Whether haunting rural glades and copses, or materialising on slices of Battenberg cake – the BVM is the "Christian" face that even wretched heathens like myself can warm to. She's a nurturing mother, an archetypal link with a pre-Christian (goddess-dominated) past, a fairy queen, and (let's not forget) a radiant & natural looker to boot. It's easy to hail Jane.
The good people of Rathkeale and its surrounds obviously agree – for they've taken to hailing a tree stump manifestation of Jane with some gusto.
Responses have been predictable, and predictably tedious. Orthodox (by the book) priests frown darkly and mutter the words "graven image". Meeja "humourists" lick their lips and spew forth facile gack about credulous boggers. Sober (Dawkins-esque) atheists shake their wise heads sadly and despair of a world so stuffed with superstitious rot. A motley crew is united in condemnation. Tsk, tsk. Oh dear, oh dear. Ha, ha.
Meanwhile, the stump continues to pull the crowds. Hawkers of holy medals, rosary beads and plastic screw-top Mary bottles count the Euros. Cute tongue-in-cheek locals serve up tasty/folksy quotes for the benefit of big city media types. A pop/folk-Catholicism celebrates itself as the storms of blasphemous libel and institutional abuse rage about it.
Says (a presumably beleaguered) parish priest Fr Willie Russell:
"There's nothing there…it's just a tree…you can't worship a tree".
Sorry Willie, but you clearly can. Or if not a tree exactly, then some sort of potent Mary/Dryad/tree hybrid. What he really means, of course, is "you shouldn't worship a tree". Stupid, stupid people. They believe the wrong things. They vote the wrong way. They simply can't be trusted. I mean to say, they're worshipping Jane the tree for God's sake! What is to be done with them?
Never fear. Intelligent, rational people of influence will always (in such situations) step in to patronise the shit out of them and make them feel thick. We'll all have a good laugh, and they'll all learn a humbling (educational) lesson. Or so we must hope.
- Blessed Virgin Mary. [back]
July 13, 2009
14 responses to Hailing Jane
looks like Michael Jackson to me.
It would be fun if Dawkins could be prevailed upon to make the trip down to Rathkeal to teach the credulous locals the error of their ways. I can see them going all Wicker Man on his ass, which would be most welcome.
Catholicism repeatedy proves itself amenable to the folk-religion remnants of paganism, druidism and what have you. The garish tat favoured by south and central american adherents is not unlike the gear being sold in Rathkeale, albeit slightly more brightly coloured. In Haiti and Brazil, elements of voodoo and simple superstition have been incorporated into the faith as practiced, if not as preached. The Church there are no happier about it than Fr. Willie Russell, but they presumably know by now that there’s not much they can do about it. Its not so much that people don’t like being told what to believe (thats what relgion is all about, after all) as that they don’t like being told how to believe.
Still, you’ve got to wonder, what is it with Protestantism that leaves it largely free of this kind of unapproved worship? Did it, perhaps, purge all such colourful irrationality from its ranks by burning the shit out of any woman who looked “a bit odd” back in the old witch-finding days?
I can see it now. “Professor Dawkins and the Stump of Superstition”. Our dauntless hero sets out to rid the ignorant locals of their foolish, primitive ideas. Lots of apparently respectful “Oh yes, Professor Dawkins” and “‘Tis true for you alright, Professor Dawkins” before a denouement where they trick him into a giant wicker vagina. Cackle! Oh ‘twould be a golden TV moment to be sure. I’m pitching it to TV3.
In a way, Jesus is almost a slightly peripheral figure in Irish Catholicism (or he’s at least part of a sizable team). He certainly shares the stage with Padre Pio, Mary (of course), and a host of popular and useful Saints (St. Anthony being one of the handiest when you’ve misplaced your glasses). This kind of thing probably drives the more intellectual/sober forces in the church to distraction. Reason enough to enjoy and celebrate it.
Speaking of Mary, I particularly enjoy those “our Lady of such and such” cards that feature the BVM on the front and what amounts to a “spell” on the back. Say these lines 5 times after dark, bury the card under a full moon, and your wish will be granted. Completely inconsistent with official church dogma no doubt, but wildly popular all the same. There’s a disconnect between “Catholicism as practice” and “Catholicism as theory” that helps juicy things like this to survive and thrive.
cos you think indulging superstition is good thing fustar
Steve, Is that a question or are you telling me that I think “indulging superstition” is a good thing?
I for one am more than happy to indulge superstition, especially when Stevie does one of his live monster drum solos. I would suggest that there is a lot more superstition going on in Ireland than the worship of tree stumps in the form of veiled virgins, if we use Stevie’s definition of superstition as ‘believing in things you don’t understand’.
Hugh, I guess what bugs me most about the treatment of the story (and what motivated me to bang out the above) is that some of those poring most scorn on the stump-worshipers are smug fuck-bags of the worst kind. There’s some sort of bizarre insistence that this kind of thing is almost as worthy of contempt as the ongoing blasphemy ding-dong and genuinely outrageous church-related scandals.
It isn’t. It’s harmless and (without wanting to sound patronising myself) colourful, and it demonstrates that there’ll always be a market for hands-on, tactile religious experiences. Ones you can rub your hands over and take pictures of. I’ve about as much religious conviction as a piece of cling-film, but this is a total soft target and, really, none of my business.
I’d rather stand with stump-lovers than those who think stump-lovers deserve an intellectual ass-whupping.
well done to you fustar that you’ve deemed yourself superior to the people your accusing of being superior
superstition ain’t dangerous
you think people that literally believe that bread turns 3,00 yr old dead person should be in charge of school system?
Oooh, sarcasm. That showed me.
you think people that literally believe that bread turns 3,00 yr old dead person should be in charge of school system?
I presume (though it’s hard to be sure) that you’re talking about transubstantiation. Well a) I can’t see how it’s any more/less ridiculous than any other item of religious belief, and b) I can’t see how it’s remotely relevant to the specifics I’m talking about above.
I’m not trying to make any wider point about Catholicism as a social force, so I don’t know why you’re dragging the education issue into it. I wouldn’t, for what it matters, send my daughter to a Catholic school in a million years. But that’s neither here nor there. Merely a personal choice.
The Rathkeale “apparition” is (among other things) an example of a spontaneous, folk-Catholicism doing a bit of self-organising and celebration. I can’t see what it has to do with debates about how the Church, as an institution, has woven itself into the fabric of Irish social, political and educational life.
Care to explain?
Oh and one other point (though I risk repeating myself). I felt moved to write the above not out of a wish to defend the Catholics of Rathkeale, but because I felt a bit nauseated by the smug and sarcastic comment the incident has generated (on the blogosphere, in the mainstream media etc). I don’t share any of their beliefs. I have no religious beliefs. But I’m not going to engage in facile sneering without at least considering what the appeal of such things might be.
I’m still waiting to read the first piece that engages with this on a cultural/social level and tries to “unpack” its meaning – because (like it or not) it does mean something. Perhaps something interesting. If you’d prefer, of course, you can just roll your eyes and chuckle at the thicko culchies.
I have not had much time to read your blog in recent months, but anything about the BVM is irresistable. What interests me is that for all its monotheism Christianity and in particular Catholicism has been forced to accomodate what is in effect a mother goddess cult. I find the Catholic version of the BVM is a bit saccharine – pretty girl with sad eyes, a halo of stars and a blue veil over her head. The Greek version the ‘Panaghia’ is a much more formidable lady – look at the icons of the BVM in any Orthodox church and you will know what I mean – the icon painters seem to base their images on those fierce matriarchs that you see in every Greek village. Miracles attributed to the Panaghia include the raising of a storm that sank a Norman invasion fleet bound for Constantinople drowning ten thousand people in the 12th century and she was a dab hand at causing Turkish cannon to explode in the faces of their operators. As recently as the Second World War she was so outraged by the Italians sinking two pilgrim ships in the harbour of her holy island Tinos on 15th August 1941 that she arranged Mussolini’s defeat and sticky end.
The Catholic version seems to have a weakness to appearing to children looking after sheep on mountain sides in the Iberian peninsula and giving them cryptic messages to be announced by the unfortunate kids to the whole world. I feel that if she really means business she should appear to the G8 Sunmmit and give them what for…
Brendan Behan one raised an interesting theological question: if the BVM is the Mother of God, does that make her mother St Anne God’s granny?
As for the tree trunk, I seem to remember reading somewhere during the past few weeks that that Michael Jackson’s image has been seen in a tree trunk somewhere in America, so maybe it’s the season for miraculous tree trunks … or perhaps it’s just that it’s the silly season…
Oh dear. I think I’m guilty of whatever fallacy its called when you project your own views into the minds of others.
That’s why, when I heard about the Blessed Tree Stump, I immediately imagined a town hall meeting.
‘Now, lads, what are we going to do about this recession? Sure the visitors are hardly stopping in the village, and when they do they’re tight with their cash.’
‘What about the moving statue lark we pulled last time?’
‘Come on now, this is a new century. The modern age. Nobody’s going to want to hear about moving statues in this day and age.’
‘Apparition in a tree stump?’
‘I’ll get the saw.’
Which just goes to show why people like me are never allowed near Community Halls.
what it means… indulge in superstition get superstition…
Sorry, Steve. That might be glib and succinct, but it’s hardly engaging with any of the points I made.