Dearbhail McDonald: Nuns’ positive contribution risks remaining tarnished forever

Ceramic blossom flowers planted at the site of the Tuam Mother and Baby Home, with the figure of a baby’s head in each of them.  Picture: Ray Ryan

LIKE many women of my generation on this island, I was educated by nuns.

It may seem counterintuitive — courageous, even — to admit that the Sisters of St Clare in Newry were the first feminists I met.

They encouraged us to be independent, critical thinkers and to take on our roles in society with confidence.

They never tired of telling us that education was the way out of poverty, ignorance, and conflict, an article of faith we clung to during the Troubles.

Any recognition of the achievements of “the nuns” is to risk derision or outrage.

This is because of the visceral and justifiable wrath that has raged for almost 30 years against the institutional response of the Catholic Church to the abuse scandals and its continued failure to take responsibility, at the highest levels, for the systemic cover-up of those abuses.

We are angry, still, at the pervasive and often malignant power the Catholic Church wielded over our lives.

That fallout is not without consequence: Pews are nearly empty, religious vocations are negligible, and the proportion of the Irish population who identify as Catholic fell from 79% in 2016 to 69% in 2022.

Faith in the institutional Church has been decimated, such that our Catholic identity is often reduced to the “bouncy castle” kind — attending weddings, funerals, and Holy Communions.

Faith still matters for many, but we are, arguably, a post-Catholic State, having voted for marriage equality and to repeal the Eighth Amendment.

But it was not so long ago that a large number of Irish families had at least one priest or nun in their midst.

Male and female religious weren’t “the other”. They were us. They are still us.

Twenty-five years or so after the abuse scandals, can Irish society hold two truths, the achievements of our women religious as well as the legacy of abuse?

Can we acknowledge that there is more to “the nuns’” story than the terrible cruelties? 

Can we distinguish the individuals we know and respect from the institutions of which they are members, orders that harmed women and children under their control and domination?

Convents were once ubiquitous in Irish towns and villages. From the early days of an impoverished, fledgling Irish State, the numbers of nuns and sisters swelled to a peak in the 1960s, with almost 14,000 women religious running most of our schools and hospitals.

Now there are barely 4,000, with an average age of at least 80 years old.

The nuns’ way of life — for better or worse — could be gone within 10 or 15 years. Are these the last nuns in Ireland?

The nuns’ story is not black and white. It is as complicated as it is current, as the ongoing, “confidential” negotiations with religious bodies that ran mother and baby homes, regarding financial contributions to the Government’s latest €800m redress scheme, attest.

Journalist and author Dearbhail McDonald is presenter of The Last Nuns in Ireland

Offering a nuanced contribution of our women religious risks accusations that we are failing victims.

We cannot ignore the harrowing accounts of countless, courageous victims of clerical and institutional abuse.

The testimonies of women incarcerated in Magdalene laundries and mother and baby homes.

Women whose infants’ unidentified remains are soon to be excavated in Tuam, before being identified — if they can be identified — and returned to families for burial.

We cannot ignore the testimonies of women whose babies were adopted illegally, as well as women subjected to needless symphysiotomies and hysterectomies.

We also cannot ignore the contributions of women of faith who have contributed positively to society, at home, and overseas.

Women whose congregations established hospitals, schools, and social services at a time when the State could not.

We rightly celebrate women religious such as Sr Consilio and Sr Stan, who, to this day, valiantly attend the needs of the poor and marginalised.

Both the achievements of nuns and priests, as well as the legacy of abuse, exist. Neither can be erased or overlooked.

As well as a hard-fought peace on this island, the relationship between Church and State is the most significant part of our national story in the last century.

It is who we are, but critical pieces of the jigsaw are still missing.

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Financial compensation and redress aside, reconciliation cannot take place unless the Catholic Church takes full accountability, beginning with the opening of its archives.

Without that public record, we cannot honour victims, nor can we fully understand Ireland in the 19th and 20th centuries.

It’s not just the past: We need to understand our relationship with the Catholic Church to navigate those inevitable future flashpoints — especially in the areas of redress, land ownership, asset transfers, education, and healthcare.

The biggest barrier to moving forward remains the failure of the Church leadership to truly accept responsibility, as well as presiding over systems that, by design, covered up abuses and allowed them to continue.

If these really are the nuns and priests in Ireland, scrutiny and accountability cannot be allowed to wither on the vine.

Journalist and author Dearbhail McDonald is presenter of The Last Nuns in Ireland.