Born: 26 May 1932, Dublin City, County Dublin
Entered: 07 September 1950, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Ordained: 31 July 1964, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 02 February 1968, Coláiste Iognáid, Galway
Died: 02 January 1997, Dublin
Part of the Coláiste Iognáid, Galway community at the time of death.
by 1971 at Loyola Chicago, USA (CHG) studying
by 1985 at University of Warwick, England (ANG) studying
◆ Interfuse
Interfuse No 92 : August 1996
Obituary
An t-Ath Seán B. Ó Conchúir (1932-1997)
26th May 1932: Born in Dublin
Early education; St. Mary's, Athlone and St. Ignatius, Galway
7th Sept. 1950: Entered the Society at Emo
8th Sept. 1952: First Vows at Emo
1952 - 1955: Rathfarnham, Arts at UCD
1955 - 1958: Tullabeg, Studying Philosophy
1958 - 1959: Belvedere: Regency
1959 - 1961: St. Ignatius, Galway, Regency
1961 - 1965: Milltown Park, Studying Theology
31st July 1964: Ordained Priest at Milltown Park
1965 - 1966: Rathfarnham, Tertianship
1966 - 1968: St. Ignatius, Galway: Teacher and MA studies
1968 - 1970: St. Ignatius, Galway: Prefect of Studies
1970 - 1973: Chicago: Doctoral studies in Education
1973 - 1977: Crescent Residence: Director, Research Project at Shannon
1977 - 1978: Crescent Residence : Lecturer in Education at New University of Ulster
1978 - 1980: Galway: University of Ulster work and Pre school project in Irish, Connemara
1980 - 1984: Resident in Connemara: Irish Project work
1984 - 1986: Warwick University Studies
1986 - 1991: Galway: Studies in Lifestart, Gaeltacht Project
1991 - 1997: Carraroe: Director of Lifestart Project and Researcher
There’s a photo in the house of Seán’s sister Mairin, deceased, in Cork, showing four army officers. They are Seán’s grandfather, father and two brothers of his father. One of them, Uncle Patrick, was a member of Michael Collins’ ‘Twelve Apostles’. The four of them played their part in the War of Independence. Sean’s mother (Mary Harper before marriage) was a member of Cumann na mBan (Fellowship of Women) and while still a child was involved in the Easter Rebellion. Sean’s pedigree, therefore, was not so different from that of the Basque, Ignatius of Loyola; a pedigree that begot loyalty, magnanimity, a large and generous heart ready for great deeds and exploits. The Son of God chose someone of that caliber – Thomas the Zealot, and perhaps also two others – James and John, the Sons of Thunder. Would you not think that Jesus has a special feel for someone who is ready to risk their life for a cause? He himself was facing into such a future: ‘I give my life for my sheep.’
That is what I say of Seán O Conchuir of the Society of Jesus; he never slackened, when younger and also in his thirty-two years of priesthood. Always he was searching for what was ‘greater’ and ‘more perfect’ until his strength, health and his very life were spent ‘for the sheep’, and especially for the sheep in the flock of his Lord and Master. In all that work, his soldier-like qualities were patience, gentleness, love, humility and humor, a humor that he could turn on himself with a delightful explosive laugh.
Seán was committed to education (was it not so with Christ?) on every level –primary, secondary and university. He educated himself through diligent study: an MA in the sixties, a doctorate in the eighties. Curriculum development, use of statistics, evaluation of teaching programmes and progression, and of the work of students or trainee teachers; psychology and child-development—he gained a mastery and reputation in all these disciplines.
His achievement, whether in founding ‘Home Education’ and the ‘Life-start Foundation’ -- his most outstanding and effective projects--is all the more remarkable when one considers that he was struck down with rheumatic fever as a child, and was a weak boy who was wheeled along the Prom at Salthill, swathed in blankets. Thus he remained until his early teens, so he could not participate in football or rowing in Colaiste Iognaid. But he began to swim and this improved his health, as did life-saving, which was being taught by Jimmy Cranny and Des Kenny. At the end of secondary school he was strong enough to join the FCA and wear a soldier’s uniform in 1949, the year when the Republic was again proclaimed. In autumn of the following year he and Padraic Mac Donnchadha joined the Jesuit Order in Emo, Portarlington.
Seán was born in Dublin: his father, Ceannphor (Commandant) Sean Ó Conchúir, was ADC to President Sean de hIde.
The family spent a while in Athlone and the father then transferred to the Cead Cath (First Battalion), which was fully Irish, in Galway. Little Seán was sent to Scoil Fhursa, managed by Bean a’Bhreathnaigh. Scoil Fhursa and later Colaiste Iognaid planted in him a love and appreciation for Irish music, dancing and song, which lasted until the end of his life. If you heard him rendering ‘An Bhinsin Luachra’ or ‘Jimmy Mo Mhile Stor’ you would understand that love and appreciation.
The experience that Seán gained of the arts of music and acting through the Feis Cheoil, and later through the Colaiste Iognaid choir, was only an extension of his family’s gifts. There is a dynamism in the family always to celebrate life, especially through close association with nature and the practice of the arts – do you remember Seán performing a solo ballet in Tullabeg? You can see this love of life in the lives and families of his three sisters too – Mairin (the bright light of God be on her), Dairine and Grainne. A permanent feature of the home life of the O’Connors were the Sing Songs. Everyone had their own song or recitation. Any Jesuit who participated in these evenings in the O’Connor home in Galway between 1966 and 1972 will look back on them with appreciation and gratitude, and will especially remember the party-piece which Sean composed and rendered with a strong Claddagh accent. Seán’s creativity blossomed: he produced plays, composed prose pieces, and wrote poetry. One of his philosophy companions in Tullabeg baptized him as ‘The Bard’.
Frequently you would notice that Seán was absorbed in deep thought. He had a great gift of focusing entirely on a person (he was an excellent listener, full of respect for the speaker whether man, woman or child), or on an object or on scenery. To the end of his life every aspect of nature gave him joy, gladness and pleasure. Wild flowers by the roadside or the bare tops of the Beanna Beola or Snowdon would give wings to his heart. Seán steadily cultivated the spirit of the Contemplatio of the Exercises of Ignatius, especially in his final years in Connemara from 1980 onward. ‘To recognize God in all things… working on my behalf’. When I study his beautiful photos of Connemara and its flora, my heart shakes with wonder: he is a man spell-bound by the beauty of creation, a silent beauty which speaks to him of the eternal and mysterious beauty of God. And in his commitment to his calling as a wise man, a teacher and a priest, whose task was to break open and divide this bread of beauty, he spoke of it in images which would take the eye out of your head. He conveyed it to the children of ‘Home Education’ in the form of jigsaws, and in the form of poems for the grown-ups.
Lord, we live out of death;
therefore I say to the animals: ‘You who were tame and gentle
In the meadows yesterday,
You nourish what is beautiful and pure
In me today.’
And I say to the fish:
‘You who were free in the water a short while ago,
You now feed the freedom and agility of my body’.
And I say to the harvest:
'The music you played to the sun in autumn
I sense now as a poem
In the cold winter of life’.
And I say to Christ:
‘The pinnacle of goodness died in your body
But now you clothe the heavens
With white flowers’.
‘And you, Host of Christ on my lips
You are the wine of blood and the seed of flesh,
You are the honey of Easter, you are the sap of youthfulness
You are the flowering branch within me
Which does not wither.’
The beauty of that poem is awesome: it leaves me rooted to the spot. God reveals his secrets to children. I believe that in all his high learning and deep study Seán kept safe within himself the heart and pure mind of a child. It was this that gave him wonderful insight into the essential stages of a child’s development. This is why the programme ‘Home Education’ satisfies the need of children from Connemara to Ballymun, from Wexford to Derry, from Barcelona to Belfast’s Shankill.
Michael Hurley gave heartfelt witness to the reputation Seán had achieved within the various strata of the Six Counties: ‘He made it easier for us to encounter one another and forge bonds of friendship’. His close friends Dolores McGuinness and Aine Downey in Derry put it incisively: ‘There was never anyone like Sean who could move among people without causing them nervousness or fear. He was full of respect for everyone, and he listened to them with total attention.’
In his final days, on his bed of sickness and weakness, I was frequently at his side. The only syllable he could articulate was his heavy breathing, regular and low. But throughout that time he made a living prayer of his hands which were stretched out before him on the bed-clothes: thumbs joined and fingers clasped, as if he had the Body of Christ within his fingers, and Seán steadily gazing on it with the eyes of his soul, constantly focussed on it, endlessly adoring: ‘I adore you, O spirit of fruitfulness, O beautiful One of the heavenly rampart’-- a quotation from ‘Adoramus Te, Christe’ by Daibhi O Bruadair (1625 – 1698): Sean learnt it at the feet of Professor Gerard Murphy in UCD. It was he who opened up for Sean the enchanting treasury of Irish literature and folklore.
And with Gregorian chant as a lullaby, to the very end he made that mysterious sign of his priesthood and his life; offering – as a child shyly offers his little fists to its mother—his labours, sweat, joys, troubles, failures, retraining, petitions, despair, despondency, love, integrity and the achievements of the years.
May the two hands of the Child Jesus enfold you forever, Seán, while He merrily teaches you the beautiful ‘Home Education’ of his own hearth and household.
Translation Brian Grogan SJ
Interfuse No 98 : Autumn 1998
VISIONARY, YES, POLITICIAN, NO
Conall Ó Cuinn
I missed Seán O'Connor's funeral. But this article is not an obituary. It's a reflection about Seán's short time as headmaster of Coláiste Iognáid in Galway for just two academic years, 1968 and 1969, the period immediately following the Prague Spring and the Paris Student Revolution. It corresponded to my own 4th and 5th Form as a student there. I write as someone who was greatly influenced by Seán's vision for education, a catalytic factor in my joining the Society. I supported him in as much as any 4th or 5th Form student was capable of supporting a headmaster.
In Seán's time I was also privileged to be a member of the first elected school council, which, like the Sunningdale Parliament, was quickly dissolved from above after a very short life, I served as a prefect in 5th year, trying to implement what I understood as Seán's vision of pupils being creative participants in their own education. I was on the editorial team of the student newspaper whose last edition never reached the newsstands, having been confiscated by the authorities. We did manage to spirit a few copies away before the police came knocking at the door and Patrick Hume tells me there is a copy in the archives. Shortly after Paddy Tyrrell took over from Seán in 1970, I was appointed School Captain, and so had a lot of contact with staff.
In many ways, even at that time, I had “insider” knowledge of what was going on above and around me (sources remaining anonymous). However, I am aware now that I didn't really understand the complexity of what was happening politically, or how delicate and fragile the whole situation was. So naive was I, that I was greatly surprised when Seán finished as headmaster after only two years. As captain of the school, I had a lot to do with his successor, Paddy Tyrrell. Like for others enthused by Seán's vision, his removal and replacement appeared to me to be a Margaret Thatcher-style takeover intent on reversing the new social order (others would say social disorder).
I now understand better what a very difficult assignment Paddy Tyrrell had been given. Seán and he were contemporaries and friends during formation. I now appreciate how Paddy managed to preserve many of the positive elements of what we might call the O'Connor revolution. For example, neither corporal punishment nor the 11-plus type streaming into A and B classes were reintroduced. The new pupil oriented attitude continued. People remained more important than system. And further developments took place under Paddy's leadership.
Seán, like Padraig Pearse, was a great visionary, but a poor politician. Seán's studies on education had been about the Pearse educational experiment at Coláiste Eanna. Only later in both cases did their vision begin to flower into political reality. In the immediate, however, Seán failed to win over the four very difficult constituencies which he needed to engage in order to succeed. These consisted of the Jesuit Community, the Lay Staff, the Parents, and the boys (especially the senior classes).
Many of the senior boys used the elimination of corporal punishment as an excuse for license, which initially gave the school a certain chaotic appearance. In his first year, Seán had welcomed a large group of repeat, but disgruntled, 6th years back to school. In general, they proved to be a very disruptive force among the senior boys and Seán's first academic year ended with a riot on the school pitch during the taking of the school photo. This resulted in all 6th years being sent home a full week before schedule, an act just short of expulsion. While the 4th and 6th year battled it out before the assembled school, with Fr. Jack Hutchinson trying to appease both sides, the lay teachers were gathered in the corner of the field to discuss whether they should go on strike. It appeared that the educational revolution had degenerated into chaos.
Owing to the suddenness of Seán's reforms, teachers had suddenly found themselves, without any real training, invited to abandon more formal teaching methods in the junior forms. Classwork was to be organised around projects whereby the teacher's role was to serve the intellectual curiosity of the pupil by providing resources and advice about topics of the pupil's interest. With no corporal punishment as the usual backup control and with little or no focus on public examinations, some of the teachers quickly found themselves bewildered and longing for the good old days of law and order.
The Jesuit staff and community lived with two unresolved tensions. Jesuits in general were divided in their reception of the new orientations of GC31, and in Galway there was the additional division between the “Gaeilgeoirs” and the “Non-Gaeilgeoirs”. Skills of community dialogue were in their rudimentary stages. Communication still tended to move vertically between the individual and the Rector. Despite the many meetings, so difficult for those not used to them, much of the political communication was beamed from one group to the other via the Rector. Our subsequent growth in ability to dialogue can now be seen more clearly when we contrast the serene atmosphere of today's province meetings to those very first acrimonious meetings of the late 60's and early 70's.
Finally, the parents, despite the importation of some high level lecturers of Lonergan leanings from Milltown Park, found it difficult to form a vision beyond the newly introduced points system for entry to University, a system necessitated by the increased number seeking university places following the introduction of free secondary education and university grants. Many parents feared the project/pupil orientated method adopted for the 1st years would spread to all classes prompting visions of their off-spring failing to progress to third-level education. The parents, like the Jesuits, were divided into two camps. The “Jes” parents saw the school as a mini-Clongowes without the boarding fees, and the “Coláiste lognáid” parents wanted an all-Irish education. I believe this division of parental motivation is one reason why Coláiste lognáid in my time never won a football match because the pool of best players was always divided between Gaelic and Rugby which was played in a club independent of the school. With divisions like this it was difficult to work with the parents as a single group. In general, however, the parents were not convinced by what they saw as a Galway version of the Paris Revolution with its sit-ins and teach-ins which were already being picked up in the Irish universities. Our having a silhouette of Che Guevara, with a clenched fist, on the cover page of the banned magazine certainly would not have helped Seán with the parents had it been circulated!
Changing metaphors, Seán was seen as the Dubcec who had gone a step too far. The hot line to the Rector and to Eglinton Road was often engaged for long periods. Both Rector and Provincial were, as far as I understand, ideologically in tune with Seán. However, they could not ignore the persistence of representation from the unconvinced part of the Jesuit Community, and many of the lay-staff and parents. Enrolment was beginning to drop too. Seán's term would have to end prematurely, without time for the fruits to show themselves. The tanks rolled in. At least it seemed like that at the time.
It was not that Seán did not know how important it was to share his vision with the four constituencies. It seems to me, however, that he confused explanation with acceptance. He made great efforts to explain ... all those meetings after school, which went on late into the night. One man, I heard, who did not see the point of all these meetings, obediently attended but spent the time correcting his copy books. However, acceptance comes ultimately with understanding. Seán may not have realised that many of the players were not convinced enough to have a team that could pull together. In fact, the team pulled apart.
Seán himself had come back to Galway after many years of openness to new ideas, both in Dublin and in the US. A small number appreciated or understood all three strands of his vision: Gaelic, child-orientated education, and Vatican II reflected institutionally in the documents of GC31. Some accepted one, or even two of these strands. But with pressure to maintain the status quo, only a few could back Seán in all three strands. Those who were still uncomfortable on any of these three areas found themselves unable to throw themselves into the project. Intellectually, emotionally, or professionally many of the teachers were ill-equipped to deal with the changes. They reacted in different ways, some by withdrawing, some with belligerent opposition to that part which seemed to be “non-sense”, some with quiet passive resistance. Weakened by this, the rope was not strong enough to carry the experiment, unraveled, and eventually snapped.
Politically, Seán might have had a better chance of succeeding if he had taken more time to introduce his changes in a slower fashion. On the other hand, the changes were the result of an intellectual and spiritual paradigm shift: none of the individual changes he introduced would on their own have made any sense without the others, Seán had not had the backup benefits of today's Ignatian colloquium, a systematic way of engaging lay-teachers and parents, and even students, in our vision. (I regard myself as having been introduced to the Jesuit educational vision through “colloquy”). It was out of experiences such as the “Galway experiment”, that the need for such methods developed.
Finally, it seems to me that Seán did have the prophet's self immolating tendency, which we see in Pearse. Say what needs to be said, even if they don't understand. Do what needs to be done, even if they don't follow. Die on the pyre of truth, for the phoenix will rise from the ashes.
But the line between prophetic word/action and railroading is often difficult to distinguish, especially when viewed from the outside. There were 'in' and 'out' groups. Invitation and command were then often perceived, and intended, as synonyms. So there might not have been the freedom to really talk through apprehensions in order to include other wisdoms in the vision. Seán may have interpreted silence as consent, and genuine opposition as belligerence.
This article is one attempt to understand what was happening in Galway at that time. I hope it can be part of the healing process which Seán is now intimately involved with in his new position in the Communion of Saints. His vision was a major stepping stone in my own journey into the Society. It has touched many people and continues to grow and develop in them. As the woman said of her husband who had walked out on her some years previously, “he was doing the best he could”: all were doing the best they could under the circumstances.
There may still be some lessons to learn from this particular phase of the history of the Irish Province. We form one Body, where each person's contribution is vital, and no one can be left out without all suffering their absence. The spirit runs, but must carry the often, as yet, unfit body. Vision must patiently wait for the slow inertia-laden swing of tradition and habit. The body lives in and needs time.
The Galway experiment was about adapting to cultural change. Genuine dialogue and inculturation are an essential part of the quality of our apostolic living and working together, not just tools of the trade or means to an end. They are movements in the continuing act of incarnation, of the Word being made flesh, of t”he entire creation ..groaning in one great act of giving birth...all of us who possess the first fruits of the Spirit we too groan inwardly ... we too must be content to hope to be saved ... something we must wait for with patience” (Rm 8:22-25).
Seán, continue to pray for us, the pilgrim Society on earth as we continue to grow/groan “till fully grown into the Body of Christ”.
