BY JOHN FITZGERALD
(Part one)
For Kilkenny, Christmas wouldn’t be the same without the chiming of the bells in St. Mary’s.
Whether you hear them as a call to prayer, a reminder of an upcoming carol service; or just a harmonic interlude on a dark winter morning or evening, the sound has a soothing note to it, as if Heaven itself is letting you know that the season of peace and goodwill has come round.
Even when you’re not hearing the bells, you can’t avoid seeing St. Mary’s Cathedral in James Street with its tower that rises to 186 feet.
The church was built on the highest point in the City and its magnificent form comes into view when you’re still miles from Kilkenny, whether driving or on foot. It dominates the skyline and, since the day it officially opened in 1857 (it took thirteen years to build) it has never been too far from the thoughts of locals, even those of a non-religious persuasion.
The building’s cruciform plan was supposedly based on that of Gloucester Cathedral in England, but the chiseled limestone was all sourced locally. The expression “blood, sweat and tears wouldn’t have been out of place in describing the effort that went into its construction. Much of the building was accomplished during the grimmest years of the famine, when the country was ravaged by hunger, death, and mass emigration.
The construction cost was enormous. It was borne in part by local merchants and donations from the better-off, but even the poorest gave what they could in the midst of privation that would make our worst recession or austerity regime look harmless by comparison. And the builders found the strength and motivation to press on, battling malnutrition and severe ill- health as they strove from dawn to dusk, fortified more by prayer than the pitiful wage they received.
The result was a fitting testament to both their superb construction skills and an unflinching faith in the project. Since day one it has brought solace to the people of Kilkenny. An aunt of mine; who lived at James’s Green called in every day for years, to pray and light candles, and her husband, an ironsmith, took his morning tea-break in the workshop once he heard the Angeles bell chime. A practical man, he opined that the proximity of the cathedral to Sean Byrne’s pub worked perfectly for weddings and funerals.
My aunt, like countless people down the ages, would some days sit alone in silence at the cathedral, soothed by the incense, comforted by the otherworldly ambiance… pondering the mystery of life: why we had to suffer the loss of those we cared most about…why some prayers were answered and others seemingly went unnoticed.
She loved this time of year at St. Mary’s: the bells, the crib, the hymns, the ornate lighting, and the ritual. And she always smiled at the idea of neighbours who came bustling in to escape a shower…looking suitably guilty as they did so. She was sure though that God didn’t begrudge them shelter.
The cathedral has served the City well, whether by hosting masses, blissful choirs, or the various sacraments of the faith that meant so much to believers. It welcomed in style a long succession of state dignitaries and just about every Prince of the Church on this island over the decades, their respected voices echoing under its breathtaking dome.
And in the dark times, when people’s fidelity was tested to the utmost, they knew that in this space they could commune safely and directly with the divine.
Having a look inside…
I’m indebted to Marianne Kelly (Kilkenny Heritage Walkers) for a whistle-stop tour of St. Mary’s. You could spend the day touring the immensity of the building, taking in the godly sights, including saintly relics, superb statuary, and a range of fabulous mosaics. Floral decoration abounds, and a feeling of perfect peace pervades the interior.
Be sure to have a look at the High Altar of Italian marble that depicts scenes from the Bible: the Annunciation, The Flight into Egypt, the Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, among others. There’s a lovely marble baptismal font named in honour of the late Bishop Freeman.
There’s the Madonna by Italian sculptor Benzoni too, but you must see the relics of third century martyr, St Victoria. These have been displayed at the Cathedral since 1867, having been gifted to St. Mary’s by the Pope on the occasion of its consecration
Seeing this hallowed exhibit for the first time can be a somewhat arresting, even shocking, experience. The bones are encased within a life-sized, life-like wax figure lying prostrate, an image of striking beauty tinged with feelings of sadness and horror evoked by the story of what happened to this woman.
The wax figure lies alongside a chalice containing Victoria’s blood. Tradition has it that she refused an offer of marriage by a Roman bigwig, protesting her strong Christian beliefs, and he had her tortured and buried in the catacombs of Rome as punishment. There are variations to this story but all agree that she paid the ultimate price, upholding her Christian faith to the end.
Since arriving at the cathedral, the saint’s relics have attracted thousands of visitors…some to pay homage, others in search of healing…
To be continued…
