Marrying our celtic past with new vows
With a registry office offering a rather dry alternative for those who grew up dreaming of a church wedding, one man is giving couples the chance to have a big day that doesn’t reject spirituality altogether.
His name is Dara Molloy, a former Roman Catholic priest, now a married father of four, who left the Church in 1996 but continues to perform ceremonies for people who want to mark an event in their lives in a meaningful, spiritual way but are unable to do so within the parameters of the Church.
90% of the services he performs are wedding ceremonies — he expects to perform at least a hundred between now and the end of September — but he also performs coming of age ceremonies for communions and conformations, naming ceremonies for baptisms as well as funerals, blessings of the sick, blessings of animals and blessings of inanimate objects, like houses or cars.
“It’s not just a dilution of the dogmatic parts,” he tells me prior to a wedding ceremony he is to perform. “It has evolved over time. I tell couples what I can do. They’ll ask if I’ll include this and that. If I like it, I’ll add it to the template. I don’t think I will ever have a set ceremony.”
Being a Catholic priest for over 30 years there is much in Dara’s ceremony which will be familiar. “You have your readings, your vows and your exchange of rings.” But the readings people choose are generally not bible-based. “They are inspirational. Something that means something to the couple themselves, be it a Shakespearean sonnet, a poem or the lyrics of a song.”
Less traditional is the blessing of the four elements — earth, air, fire and water. “The thing about Irish Christianity is that it developed of its own accord,” says Dara. “It became very successful and spread all over Europe. It didn’t preach original sin and it gave people a lot more freedom over their own spiritual lives.”
As a priest Dara wanted to be the person who would move the Irish Church in a different direction, reclaiming this Irish heritage. But he eventually saw that the church wasn’t going to come of its own volition and that the Roman church was the very church to suppress it in the first place.
“All the indigenous spirituality, all the lovely diversity, was suppressed by the Roman Church. They were the first organisation in the world to achieve a global vision and, like any global corporation, their success depended on suppressing local produce.”
He tries to blend this diversity back into the ceremonies he performs for couples who want to avoid looking like hypocrites as they walk down the aisle. “Rubbing a piece of Irish turf off of their feet I bless their journey as a couple as they furrow their own path. I pray that they will have a clear vision, courage and wisdom and never alter or lose confidence in themselves.”
He then blesses those in attendance with water, symbolising all the connections brought together by the union — family, friends, neighbours, colleagues — before fanning the couple with an eagle’s feather to represent the air where they can be naked in front of one another and feel unconditionally loved.
“I strike a match above their heads to symbolise the fire they have in their heart for one another and everything that drives them, inspires them, motivates them. I pray that this fire will stay burning throughout the marriage.”
After the couple exchange rings he binds their hands with an Aran Islands criss (a woven belt in a variety of colours) to remind them that they are like two trees that have been planted side by side. “If you were to take up the roots you would discover that they had intertwined, seeking the sources of life, as their branches have also intertwined reaching for the stars.”
He wears a traditional alb, tied around which is an Aran Islands Criss and depending on whether they want him as a druid, a monk or a priest he will wear a large, brown, hooded cape, a brightly coloured stole or nothing else. “If they want me to perform as a layman I’ll just wear a suit. ”
Much of his business is from word of mouth. “People who like my wedding will refer me to others.” While wedding planners also send a lot of work his way, the majority of his clients simply google ‘celtic priests’ and his name pops up.
This is how Jason and Lea Fiske, a Canadian couple with links to Ireland, found him.
“Weddings nowadays are like circuses,” says Jason. “People put on such a show that they forget who they are marrying and why. We wanted something that was about us and our love for each other. Intimate, romantic, real.”
They married at the edge of the Cliffs of Moher surrounded only by their immediate family.
He has married people in all sorts of different places. In back gardens, in the shadow of national heritage sites, even once going up the River Corrib in a boat. Those willing to travel to Dara’s home on Inis Morr, off the west coast of Ireland, can avail of a very special ceremony that is stitched into the landscape.
“I can’t do that ceremony anywhere else except at Mainistir Chiaráin, around the ruins of an old monastic church which I incorporate into the ceremony,” he says.
There is the holy well there that in ancient times was a symbol of the goddess of the earth. “Here I focus on the bride, blessing her with the feminine energy.” He then focuses on the groom, moving over to a phallic standing stone, which is meant to symbolise male fertility and power. “The groom places his hands on the stone and we pray for virility.”
After they are pronounced husband and wife they move to a circular dial with a Celtic cross carved on it. “The sun dial has always been traditionally used as a wishing stone, so the couple make a wish by pulling a silk scarf through the hole in the stone three times.” They then face each other and place the index finger of their right hand through the hole in the sundial. “By touching fingers through this hole, they confirm their marriage vows, which continues an ancient practice, where the sundial was used as a contract stone.”
Colin and Caoimhe O’Brien were married there two years ago. “Because we come from a very strong religious background, we understood the significance of ceremony,” says Colin, who works in media.
“But neither of us were religious, so we were trying to figure out some way of marking the day. We believe in the idea of marriage and we wanted to celebrate that within the ceremony.”
Having come in contact with Dara following a day trip to Aran they decided that the services he offered were just what they were after. “It was more personable and universal. If you aren’t familiar with the symbolism in a Christian wedding it can often get lost in the familiarity. Dara makes it so immediate. So involving. He grounds it in meaning.”
Dara’s business has continually grown since he left the priesthood in 1996. His concern now is how he can get more people to follow in his footsteps. “I’m getting older and I’m not going to be able to handle the demand on my own much longer.” He has put out feelers to get people to work with him but, unfortunately, so far, people have been hesitant to take it on, as it is such a big commitment.
“It would have to be someone with a very conscious spiritual life themselves.” he says. “Otherwise the ceremony will become just a piece of theatre.”
He’s been trying to encourage women, in particular, to get involved. “The women who say they want to be priests. Here is their opportunity.” As well as approaching men who have resigned from the Catholic Church.
While some people can’t abide the thought of taking the plunge without taking a mountain of debt into the honeymoon bed with them, I’ll leave the last words to The Liskes:
“Let go of the traditional $50,000 wedding circus and do it right. Our wedding was unforgettable.”
* Info: www.daramolloy.com
