Sarah Delaney

When I arrived in Ireland earlier this spring, I expected to be bombarded with news and information about the Northern Ireland conflicts. The religious violence was what I associated with the Emerald Isle – that and St. Patrick’s Day. I assumed the issue would frequently come up in conversation, through debates of the latest reconciliation attempts, retelling stories of close encounters and dreadful memories, and mourning those who were lost in the violence. How could such a devastating situation not be at the core of the country’s identity? Neighbor versus neighbor, brother versus brother, all fighting for their people, be it the Catholics or the Protestants. It had all the components for a moving story and cautionary tale for future generations. Yet only once have I heard the phrase “Northern Ireland conflicts” spoken outside of a history classroom, and that was only when I asked my cabdriver why the Irish remain mute on the subject. His response: why should we remember our bloody history, when senseless violence destroyed communities and killed hundreds?

After living in Ireland for a month, I have realized the integral nature of Catholicism in the nation’s daily life. Down the road from my apartment is a beautiful neighborhood church, with bells that ring every morning, and that stands as the central focal point for giving directions in the area. In fact, there are similar churches in nearly every neighborhood here. Many of the main tourist sites are churches and cathedrals, and daily discussions of the faith remain a constant undercurrent of Irish society: last week’s paper highlighted the close relationship between the Office of the Taoiseach (the Prime Minister) and the Catholic hierarchy.