Born: 05 December 1905, Drumsna, County Leitrim
Entered: 14 November 1923, St Stanislaus College, Tullabeg, County Offaly
Ordained: 24 June 1937, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 02 February 1943, Clongowes Wood College SJ
Died: 13 May 1986, Clongowes Wood College, Naas, County Kildare
by 1929 at San Ignacio, Sarrià, Barcelona, Spain (ARA) studying
by 1939 at St Beuno’s Wales (ANG) making Tertianship
◆ Irish Province News
Irish Province News 61st Year No 3 1986
Obituary
Fr Gerard O’Beirne (1905-1923-1986)
5th December 1905: born. 14th November 1923: entered SJ. 1923-25 Tullabeg, noviciatę. 1925-28 Rathfarnham, juniorate (BA; 2nd-class honours in Greek and Latin). 1928-31 philosophy: 1928-30 Sarriá (Spain), 1930-31 Heythrop. 1931-34 Clongowes, regency, 1934-38 Milltown, theology (24th June 1937: ordained priest). 1938-39 St Beuno's, tertianship.
1939-52 Clongowes, assistant prefect of studies and teaching. 1952-60 Crescent: 1952-55 teaching, assistant prefect of studies; 1955-60 prefect of studies.
1960-69 Emo, giving missions and retreats.
1969-86 Clongowes, ministering in public church (1980-86, prefect of it); teaching (mainly Latin) until 1984. 13th May 1986: died.
All through his 63 years in the Society, Fr Gerry O'Beirne spoke with affection of his boyhood days on the banks of the upper Shannon, his family, his school-days at St Mel's College, Longford (the diocesan college of Ardagh and Clonmacnois), and his fellow-novices at Tullabeg. Fr Michael Browne, his novicemaster, was forever in his mind the ideal Jesuit: his words of wisdom and his advice left a deep impression on Gerry.
As a student he enjoyed his years at University College, Dublin, because with his retentive memory Latin and Greek came easy to him. His memory served him well throughout life: names sprang to his lips with ease. Friends, once acknowledged, he never forgot, not even when studying in Barcelona or later at Heythrop and St Beuno's. All the good things stood out in his memory, especially the tertianship year, when he experienced real Jesuit community life and the companionship which appealed so much to him.
For the rest of his life, apart from his nine years on the mission staff, he was a teacher. These mission years incidentally he found somewhat hard, I think because he came on that scene a little late in life. Teaching, on the other hand, suited him well. His eight years spent in the Crescent were happy, and he was the first to give credit to the many members of the community who helped him without his asking for help. He appreciated their spontaneous solidarity and support.
In 1969 he returned to Clongowes after an absence of seventeen years, and devoted what were to be the last seven- teen years of his life to teaching and especially to ministering in the public church. As regards the classroom, with his prodigious memory he could remember every boy who at any time sat at his feet. Many of his pupils remained friends of his for life. No one ever doubted him to be an extremely hard worker; the boys also realised this. During the summer rest periods he went on supply to various parishes in France. These supplies brought him pleasure and relaxation.
To his fellow-Jesuits Gerry was quite a character. His life was enshrined in anecdotes. How often we heard him preface his remarks with a phrase like 'Oh, he was a great friend of mine'. That simple phrase somehow revealed his humanity, his warmth and his loyalty. That same humanity served him well in dealing with people, especially diocesan clergy. Towards the end of his life, he found very hard his inability to walk as in the days of yore, and to come to terms with the eighth decade of his life; but above all he missed community talk, which meant a great deal to him.
For those who lived with him for long periods his devotion to morning meditation was striking. His spiritual life was simple and faithful. In a peculiar way he was a little afraid of death, and yet, as one of the Clongowes community said on the day of his funeral, the gospel phrase, “Well done, good and faithful servant”, suited Gerry to perfection. His last hours, full of peace, and his model death were a marvellous blessing for him and those who witnessed them. May the good Lord take care of him.
The second world war started on 1st September 1939, and on the same day I arrived in Clongowes, where I spent a week before school opened. That is when I met Fr Gerry O'Beirne. There was nothing much to do, and he often brought me out shooting with a :22. We set up tins on a convenient wall and shot them off it. The rifle wasn't very accurate; but it was typical of him to take the stranger under his wing. The next summer I met him in Kilkee with the Clongowes community on villa. The war years were quite limiting in many respects, but we cycled all over the county, pausing occasionally for meals packed by my mother and supplemented by tins of salmon, packets of biscuits and tins of peaches. We never brought a tin-opener, so the tins were opened by a mixture of rage and ingenuity.
We had him for Greek in I Grammar and I was terrified of him, probably because I never did any work and had every reason to be frightened. He strode around the classroom, up and down between the desks, providing an appalling hazard for anyone who was trying to read a novel. Before class he could be seen through the window walking and reading a textbook; on the stroke of the bell he would burst into the classroom with his gown and wings flying; the prayer was said; the books were opened; he cleared his throat and the performance began. He wasn't acting: he was being himself. On more than one occasion he burst into flames when the pipe which he thought he had extinguished smouldered into life in the pocket of his gown.
Outside the classroom he was interested in every school activity. He loved talking to the boys of Rhetoric and Poetry, and he was always surrounded by a group of disciples who listened to him with a mixture of awe and amusement as he expounded his political theories to audiences that were far more receptive - and tolerant – than his brethren. We knew what he thought of Churchill and Roosevelt, and I suppose we baited him occasionally, albeit very very carefully. The Higher Line debating society was one of his charges, and the motions were debated well in
advance; woe betide anyone who proposed a line of argument that was not in accordance with the party line; it was his party and so there was freedom of speech ... to agree.
When he had to take walks with the on playdays, he left a trail of stragglers scattered all over Kildare while he led a band of intellectuals, whose muscles were unaccustomed to such exercise, towards ever-receding horizons. When he reached what he was a reasonable goal, he would ask anyone who had kept up with him, “Has anyone any money?” No boys were allowed into shops, so he did the purchasing for the group, and distributed his load of sweets and biscuits and lemonade with a complete disregard for proportion in which the contributors had subscribed. He was against communism except in practice.
He was immensely strong and loved violent exercise. He organised a campaign of planting potatoes beside the Higher Line pavilion to provide food for the poor. Once again the less athletically-inclined disciples found themselves wielding spades and mattocks. Almost any ruse was used to slow down the rate of work and give sore muscles a rest. On one occasion he was challenged by the House shot-putter,who was also a Leinster champion, to a trial of strength. He would surely have won the encounter had not his challenger used a seven-pound shot while Gerry hurled the twelve-pounder truly impossible distances.
He planted thousands of saplings around the grounds, and constantly complained that he was denied the ration of chicken-wire that would have protected the young trees from the hares which abounded. As a result, every one of his 'striplings was eaten alive . . . the fate worse than death.
Schoolboys are fascinated by a man who is out of the ordinary, and in the Clongowes of the day, amid the proverbial caution and conformism of the other Jesuits, he was refreshing and outspoken. One of my clearest memories of those days was the way in which his confessional was besieged by the more criminally-inclined elements of boys that small world.
I lived with him in the Society and we became very close friends. Indeed, he inspired incredible loyalty among his real friends; it was all right for them to joke about him and quote his sayings: but let no one else do so or dare to mock him. When he was prefect of studies in the Crescent, there were hilarious meetings in his room when a gang of us tried to catch up with his paperwork for the Department, while he presided in state, puffing his pipe and discoursing on the the iniquities of whichever politician or gombeen-man, religious or secular, was being particularly iniquitous at the moment. Wherever he was, there was controversy, discussion, argument, denunciation, and life. He was a wonderful man.
I can see him now, standing at the vesting-press every morning for half an hour before Mass: he told me once, “It is the only way that I can be sure I make a meditation'. I remember also an occasion after a particularly pious “domestic exhortation” on prayer, when he muttered to me on his way out of the chapel: “I don't know what all the fuss is about; I say the Our Father’.” He was a wonderful man.
His sayings were innumerable and inimitable. Beware of imitations: they lack the genuine flavour ...
That man is digging his own epitaph ….
“I'll teach him to keep a civil tongue in his cheek , .. We'll certainly spill the beans for those fellows...”
He was immensely kind; he was totally dedicated to whatever work he was given; he was extraordinarily successful as a teacher, as a prefect of studies, as a missioner. He was unswervingly loyal to his friends. He was a most devoted priest. He was a wonderful man.
◆ The Clongownian, 1986
Obituary
Father Gerard O’Beirne SJ
Of Father O'Beirne's sixty-one years as a Jesuit, thirty-three were spent teaching in Clongowes. His love for Latin and Greek was deep and genuine. His prodigious memory helped him to remember every boy he ever taught in class: many of these he remained friendly with for life. Clongowes was his home and certainly his wish was to rest one day beside his old friends - Frs Cyril Power, Charles O'Conor, Tom O'Donnell, Jim Casey and Br Willie Glanville.
Those who were at school in the forties will recall vividly his work on the farm, his contribution to the war effort. Those who walked with him on Play Days during that same period will recall his lively conversation on all subjects; for his tastes were catholic indeed. While those who played golf with him, saw another side to his character, a side both human and loyal.
The trees beneath the Red House and the trees to the south-east of the cricket pavilion are a testimony to his vision as a young man. Having been blessed with brains to burn, Fr O'Beirne had a soft spot in his heart for boys with talent. Many saw him as direct, forceful, with strong views. Yet the boys took his remarks in their stride because they knew that he was an excellent teacher and an extremely hard worker, and had their interests at heart.
It would be true to say that Fr Gerry O'Beirne was considered a character. His life was enshrined in anecdotes. After all he was very human and had a heart of gold. His spiritual life was simple, straight forward and faithful. This aspect of his life was known mainly to his Jesuit Community. During the ten years spent on the Jesuit mission staff, giving retreats and missions up and down Ireland, he was helped by a strong voice with clear diction, sound judgment, and a very sympathetic approach to people and their problems. Towards the end of his life he devoted his time to the People's Church at Clongowes and, as one might expect, preached with vigour, never mincing his words and spoke with utter conviction on matters that he felt deeply about.
Being robust and energetic all his life, the last few years with deteriorating health were a great strain for him. Even the tiny white car had to remain idly parked for long periods outside the main hall door. He died so quietly, peacefully and so resigned that he earned his spiritual journey to the Lord. Many depart from a school like Clongowes and in time are forgotten. Fr O'Beirne's name, I feel certain, will be mentioned for along time to come, especially by his family whom he loved and also by many past Clongownians.
May the Lord bring him safely home.
KH SJ
