-- No God for Ireland! he cried.

So I was having a pint the other afternoon at the James Joyce Public House in White Plains reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, when I had an epiphany. There is a section in the first chapter that deals with the death of Charles Stewart Parnell, a Protestant Irishman who was the leader of the Irish Home Rule movement. In 1890, after a series of political setbacks, Parnell's seven year affair with the wife of a former Home Rule party member became public knowledge. He was condemned by the Catholic church, lost his parliamentary leadership and all hope of ever uniting the country again. He died the following year. Ah, back to my epiphany. The family of Stephen Dedalus is split on the matter of Parnell, the fallen King. They ruined Christmas dinner over it. Some things never change. So what is the proper role of religion in politics? How can we find common ground when everyone is so passionate about their beliefs? My epiphany was a question I can't answer.

* * *

He poured sauce freely over Stephen's plate and set the boat again on the table. Then he asked uncle Charles was it tender. Uncle Charles could not speak because his mouth was full; but he nodded that it was.

-- That was a good answer our friend made to the canon. What? said Mr Dedalus.

-- I didn't think he had that much in him, said Mr Casey.

-- I'll pay your dues, father, when you cease turning the house of God into a polling-booth.

-- A nice answer, said Dante, for any man calling himself a catholic to give to his priest.

-- They have only themselves to blame, said Mr Dedalus suavely. If they took a fool's advice they would confine their attention to religion.

-- It is religion, Dante said. They are doing their duty in warning the people.

-- We go to the house of God, Mr Casey said, in all humility to pray to our Maker and not to hear election addresses.

-- It is religion, Dante said again. They are right. They must direct their flocks.

-- And preach politics from the altar, is it? asked Mr Dedalus.

-- Certainly, said Dante. It is a question of public morality. A priest would not be a priest if he did not tell his flock what is right and what is wrong.

Mrs Dedalus laid down her knife and fork, saying:

-- For pity sake and for pity sake let us have no political discussion on this day of all days in the year.

-- Quite right, ma'am, said uncle Charles. Now, Simon, that's quite enough now. Not another word now.

-- Yes, yes, said Mr Dedalus quickly.

He uncovered the dish boldly and said:

-- Now then, who's for more turkey?

Nobody answered. Dante said:

-- Nice language for any catholic to use!

-- Mrs Riordan, I appeal to you, said Mrs Dedalus, to let the matter drop now.

Dante turned on her and said:

-- And am I to sit here and listen to the pastors of my church being flouted?

-- Nobody is saying a word against them, said Mr Dedalus, so long as they don't meddle in politics.

-- The bishops and priests of Ireland have spoken, said Dante, and they must be obeyed.

-- Let them leave politics alone, said Mr Casey, or the people may leave their church alone.

-- You hear? said Dante, turning to Mrs Dedalus.

-- Mr Casey! Simon! said Mrs Dedalus, let it end now.

-- Too bad! Too bad! said uncle Charles.

-- What? cried Mr Dedalus. Were we to desert him at the bidding of the English people?

-- He was no longer worthy to lead, said Dante. He was a public sinner.

-- We are all sinners and black sinners, said Mr Casey coldly.

-- Woe be to the man by whom the scandal cometh! said Mrs Riordan. It would be better for him that a millstone were tied about his neck and that he were cast into the depths of the sea rather than that he should scandalize one of these, my least little ones. That is the language of the Holy Ghost.

-- And very bad language if you ask me, said Mr Dedalus coolly.

-- Simon! Simon! said uncle Charles. The boy.

* * *

He was for Ireland and Parnell and so was his father: and so was Dante too for one night at the band on the esplanade she had hit a gentleman on the head with her umbrella because he had taken off his hat when the band played God save the Queen at the end.

Mr Dedalus gave a snort of contempt.

-- Ah, John, he said. It is true for them. We are an unfortunate priest-ridden race and always were and always will be till the end of the chapter.

Uncle Charles shook his head, saying:

-- A bad business! A bad business!

Mr Dedalus repeated:

-- A priest-ridden Godforsaken race!

He pointed to the portrait of his grandfather on the wall to his right.

Do you see that old chap up there, John? he said. He was a good Irishman when there was no money In the job. He was condemned to death as a whiteboy. But he had a saying about our clerical friends, that he would never let one of them put his two feet under his mahogany.

Dante broke in angrily:

-- If we are a priest-ridden race we ought to be proud of it! They are the apple of God's eye. Touch them not, says Christ, for they are the apple of My eye.

-- And can we not love our country then? asked Mr Casey. Are we not to follow the man that was born to lead us?

-- A traitor to his country! replied Dante. A traitor, an adulterer! The priests were right to abandon him. The priests were always the true friends of Ireland.

-- Were they, faith? said Mr Casey.

He threw his fist on the table and, frowning angrily, protruded one finger after another.

-- Didn't the bishops of Ireland betray us in the time of the union when Bishop Lanigan presented an address of loyalty to the Marquess Cornwallis? Didn't the bishops and priests sell the aspirations of their country in 1829 in return for catholic emancipation? Didn't they denounce the fenian movement from the pulpit and in the confession box? And didn't they dishonour the ashes of Terence Bellew MacManus?

His face was glowing with anger and Stephen felt the glow rise to his own cheek as the spoken words thrilled him. Mr Dedalus uttered a guffaw of coarse scorn.

-- O, by God, he cried, I forgot little old Paul Cullen! Another apple of God's eye!

Dante bent across the table and cried to Mr Casey:

-- Right! Right! They were always right! God and morality and religion come first.

Mrs Dedalus, seeing her excitement, said to her:

-- Mrs Riordan, don't excite yourself answering them.

-- God and religion before everything! Dante cried. God and religion before the world.

Mr Casey raised his clenched fist and brought it down on the table with a crash.

-- Very well then, he shouted hoarsely, if it comes to that, no God for Ireland!

-- John! John! cried Mr Dedalus, seizing his guest by the coat sleeve.

Dante stared across the table, her cheeks shaking. Mr Casey struggled up from his chair and bent across the table towards her, scraping the air from before his eyes with one hand as though he were tearing aside a cobweb.

-- No God for Ireland! he cried. We have had too much God In Ireland. Away with God!

-- Blasphemer! Devil! screamed Dante, starting to her feet and almost spitting in his face.

Uncle Charles and Mr Dedalus pulled Mr Casey back into his chair again, talking to him from both sides reasonably. He stared before him out of his dark flaming eyes, repeating:

-- Away with God, I say!

From A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce.

Comments

[Jordans 5]

Complaints are the greatest offerings that God obtains from human beings, as well as the most faithful prayers human beings might utter toGod. I thought It was very reasonable

[Thesawpit]

This is a test.