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Fáilte, Welcome

to the website for the Catholic Diocese of Cloyne, Ireland

Bishop William Crean

04 October 2025

Bishop William Crean meets Pope Leo on recent pilgrimage to Rome

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Bishop Crean meets Pope Leo

Pastoral letter from Bishop William Crean

on pastoral planning for the future

My dear people,

To live is to change, is a pearl of wisdom from St. John Henry Newman, a convert to the Catholic faith in the 19th Century. To live in the 21st Century is an experience of constant change, social, cultural and technological. Viewing “Reeling in the Years,” the television series depicting life in former times is a dramatic reminder of the extent of the change we have experienced.

The Church whose life and presence within our communities and parish has had to adjust to and
manage the change taking place in society. One particular pattern has been evident for some years
now is the decline both in profession of Christian faith and its practice through the attendance at Holy Mass,
which, for the believer, is an obligation in faith. The consequence of this generational shift from family and
parish community attendance has seen a similar decline in responding to the call to Priesthood and Religious life. Despite this pattern in the Diocese of Cloyne, in all the parishes there are faithful practicing prayer congregations who witness to and support one another in faith.

Pastoral Letter

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Latest Homily

25th October 2026 - The widow and the orphan

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October 2026
August 2026
- New Appointments in the Diocese of Cloyne - 12th September 2026
October 2025
- Bishop Crean meets Pope Leo
September 2025
- "Behold I'm doing a new thing" says the Lord (Isaiah 43)
February 2025
- Recent picture of St. Colman's Cathedral, Cobh. Co. Cork
October 2024
- Light a Candle at St. Colman's Cathedral

Coram Fratribus

All Saints

Revelation 7.2-14: A huge number, impossible to count.
1 John 3.1-3: We shall see him as he is.
Matthew 5.1-12: Blessed are the meek.
In shop windows around town you see phosphorously luminous skeletons. Last night, crossing the Old Town Bridge, I met Read More

Coram Fratribus

Conversation with Vittoria Prisciandaro

On your website there is a meditation on the role of the Church in today’s Europe. Your country has a shared frontier with Russia. What is the role of the Christian churches in the present geopolitical context, amidst raging wars Read More

Coram Fratribus

All Saints Revelation 7.2-14: A huge number, impossible to count.
1 John 3.1-3: We shall see him as he is.
Matthew 5.1-12: Blessed are the meek.
In shop windows around town you see phosphorously luminous skeletons. Last night, crossing the Old Town Bridge, I met a lady on a bike who was wearing a skull-mask — apart from that she seemed nice enough. At the airport in Tromsø, the plastic polar bear by the baggage claim has been lumbered with a humiliating witch’s hat, poor fellow. Well, that’s Halloween for you.
What is Halloween? The answer will depend on whether you approach the question pragmatically or theologically.
Pragmatically, Halloween is a shop-keepers’ project, introduced to this country not so long ago — I’d say a couple of decades? The second half of October is a poor season for trade, lying between the autumn sales and the Christmas hysteria. American movies had familiarised us with dressed-up kids roaming about on 31 October asking treats while threatening tricks. That seemed a good opportunity to sell all sorts of nonsense. So marketing began. We needn’t get too exercised by this banal aspect of Halloween. But neither should we yield to it. We can use it creatively for our own purposes, the way the children of our parish do when they dress up as saints rather wraiths. They have at least as much fun as their peers. I dare say they’ll not have been short of treats either.
Theologically speaking, modern Halloween is much more complex, potentially much more sinister. The word ‘Halloween’ designates, of course, ‘the Eve of All Hallows’, that is, All Saints. Since the ninth century, the century of Charlemagne, when Norwegians awoke from corporate slumber and set out self-consciously, often unkindly, to face the world, when ‘Norvegr’, meaning ‘Way to the North’, became an established term, the Church has kept 1 November as All Saints Day. Already back then there was a large number of proclaimed saints, of course, but the canonised women and men the Church presents as Christian exemplars, sure that they now rejoice eternally before God, are but a fraction of the heavenly host we hope we ourselves may join once we’ve made our way through the hour of our death. When John caught a glimpse of this reality he saw, as we have heard him write, ‘a multitude that could not be numbered’. All Saints Day was instituted as a way of honouring this immense assembly; and to remind the faithful that the Church militant, still struggling among earthly constrains, and the Church triumphant, singing God’s heavenly praises, is a single reality. Faith builds a bridge from time into eternity. It shows us that death is not final.
All Saints Day is inextricably linked to All Souls Day, which we keep tomorrow. God wishes all people to be saved (1 Tim 2.4). That affirmation is Biblical and fundamental. God does not impose his saving will on anyone, however. We are free to resist it. It is possible to be eternally lost. It pertains to our human responsibility that we can burp God in the face and say No! to his grace.
Let’s make sure we don’t do that. Let’s be reconciled to God and to each other, renouncing all bitterness and anger. God bids us be bearers of peace who live by the Beatitudes, the royal path to heaven.
Even after a good life, a life oriented towards the divine, we may not be immediately ready to enter God’s tremendous Reality. Scripture uses the image of gold that needs to be purified of dross. Cleansing fire is needed, not to punish us, but to let us appear as we truly are: as beings created in God’s image to be like God, aflame with his glory.
‘Purgatory’ is the name we give the condition in which, when there is need, we are purified after pilgrimaging through earth’s dust. Purgatory is a place of mercy marked by joy, the way we rejoice when a white blouse, marred by ketchup stains, returns pristine after a round through the washing machine, ready to be ironed and adorned again with a brooch of gold.
This is the mystery towards which we raise out hearts on All Souls Day. We pray for all the dead, those we have known and those otherwise forgotten, who synodally are getting ready to see God face to face while the angels cry out, ‘Alleluia!’. We ask them to intercede for our own Christian progress.
On these days, then, on 1 and 2 November, we contemplate our present existence in the perspective of eternity. We remind ourselves that our life proceeds towards a goal. God wishes that goal to be blessed. Do we wish it, too, or do we choose darkness rather than light? The original purpose of Halloween was to help people ask that question, so that they might keep the Church’s feasts lucidly.
When faith began to wane in the West, the heavenly sheen retreated from Halloween. Once people no longer admit belief in God’s eternity, the only form of death-defiance they can imagine is that of the restless, lugubrious passage of ghosts through the world, as if there were nothing beyond it. A celebration once life-affirming turned, emptied of Christian content, into a magnet for the sombre powers of death.
Witches entered the picture, and wolves. At midnight yesterday I was awakened by an uncanny, and rather large, chorus of voices uniting in a wolf call. In Trondheim!
Halloween the way it is now is proof that apostasy from faith does not result in atheism; it generates superstition. It is vital, then, that we who have been gifted with faith represent that faith credibly.
We can’t be content merely to moan about Halloween’s excesses; we must use them to bear witness to Christ’s victory over death, to the dignity of man, called to share in God’s nature. Wolves may howl, but the music of the spheres will silence them. The last word in this world is not a baying of despair but a many-voiced symphony of love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. That’s what we’ll tune our lives by.
Amen.
What a gruesome and ridiculous parody all this stuff is. Image from the advert of a Norwegian chain of shops with the heading “Everything you need for Halloween – costumes, decorations, candy, and recipes”.

Coram Fratribus

Conversation with Vittoria Prisciandaro On your website there is a meditation on the role of the Church in today’s Europe. Your country has a shared frontier with Russia. What is the role of the Christian churches in the present geopolitical context, amidst raging wars and the progress of rightwing nationalisms?
To put forward the teaching of Jesus Christ as a possible foundation of the social covenant even in the complex reality of modern society; to pinpoint and articulate the causes of those frustrations that cause a hardening of the political climate, not being content simply to stand aloof in complaint; to keep the right balance between a healthy love of one’s own county and to be aware of a global order, which confers both privileges and obligations.
We hear it said: ‘We Europeans must defend ourselves’. But what is there to defend?
The rhetoric about the defence of Europe, which often evokes supposedly intrinsic ‘values’, is complex, for there is no real consensus about what Europe signifies. The history of Europe has in large part been forgotten. One of the chief ills of our time is cultural and historical amnesia. As Christians we need to be watchful of any attempt to instrumentalise the faith to cynical ends. At the same time we must find the means and occasions to speak constructively about the Christian orientation that has formed Europe. It is an urgent taks to propose a coherent answer to the question you pose. More is needed to consolidate the continent than treaties on trade and taxes, important though these are.
Why is beer ‘a neglected theological symbol’?
That observation comes from a speech I gave at the inauguration of the new brewery of our monastery in 2017. I referred to the humble simplicity of the elements that make up any beer: water and yeast, malt and hops. None of these elements is especially remarkable in isolation. But when you put them together in a favourable environment following a well thought-out recipe, their interaction enables the maturing of a new reality that is nourishing and spirited. In this sense the process of making a truly excellent beer seems to me a legitimate metaphor for the formation of communities within the Church.
***
You can read the whole text of the interview, conducted in Italian, here.
Statue of Charlemagne in the Grossmünster in Zürich, though he may not have looked exactly like that.

Coram Fratribus

Looking at Hats Of the many nice things I saw in the Albertina’s Batliner Collection last week, this canvas by Macke particularly struck me. It has a playful character. You feel voyeurish at first, looking at a woman who looks at something she craves; but since the objects of her desire are hats you think, ‘Oh well’, and keep looking. The composition is exquisite, the colours perfectly balanced. What is really marvellous, though, is the way the window-shopper is both separate from and one with what she looks at. ‘Where your treasure is, there your heart’ – that is, your deepest self – ‘will be also’. I thought of that verse before this painting. Herbert and Rita Batliner gave their collection of paintings to the Albertina on a permanent loan in 2007. Unless there are several versions about, I presume they got their Macke from Christie’s, in which case it will have set them back half a million pounds or so. It is quite a thing to make that sort of investment, then to make your purchase available to the public. There’s a heart/treasure dynamic there, too. Ilse Erdmann, writing to Rilke about Macke’s painting, thought it an image of transience. I rather think there’s a kind of stability in it.

Coram Fratribus

Misappropriation It’s a feature of our time that, turning on the radio while getting the breakfast things out, you might hear terms such as ‘Palantir’, ‘Istar’, ‘Mordor’ and ‘orcs’ on the morning news. They are borrowings from Tolkien, extracted from the coherently imagined universe of The Lord of the Rings, applied haphazardly to strategic policies that make us afraid. Are such borrowings legitimate? In a carefully argued essay published a few months ago, Professor Giuseppe Pezzini argues that, more often than not, they are not: ‘This appropriation of Tolkien rests on both misunderstanding and manipulation.’ Tolkien’s epic envisages the destruction of Sauron’s Ring of Power by the guileless hobbit Frodo. Today’s Tolkien enthusiasts seek to be ring-wielders, enamoured of the ring’s promise to assure ‘invisibility, control over other minds, and the prolongation of life’. They resemble Tolkien’s Saruman, whose epithet ‘the Wise’ is ironic. Saruman affirms: ‘We must have power, power to order all things as we will’. Seeing this tendency at work in post-war reconstruction, Tolkien declared in a 1958 speech, ‘Saruman has many descendants.’ He noted, ‘We hobbits have against them no magic weapons’, yet proposed a toast ‘To the Hobbits. May they outlast the Sarumans and see spring again in the trees.’ Pezzini’s text synthesises literary criticism and political commentary with the wisdom, not of Sarumanic calculation, but of the Shires.

Coram Fratribus

Amber Eyes To visit the Jewish Museum in Vienna is to face a long history of prowess, resilience, cultural brilliance, and awful destruction. The museum is based in two locations. On the Judenplatz you can visit the foundations of the medieval synagogue burnt down in the Viennese Gesera of 1420, the year of Torquemada’s birth. On top of these foundations, at street level, Rachel Whiteread’s Shoah memorial now stands, puzzling at first, profoundly moving when you get the point of it. In the Dorotheergasse, you’re taken through the modern history of Viennese Jewry, from the optimism sprung from the 1848 revolutions into the abyss of the Holocaust, then beyond. I was unprepared, so deeply moved, to find in the museum the hare with amber eyes of which Edmund de Waal has written so remarkably. This tiny, exquisite object, apparently fragile, has survived to tell a story that could fill a library. One has but to be able really to see it. The Jewish Museum is a reminder of what destruction wilful blindness has wrought, still wreaks. It exhorts us to keep our eyes open, and shows us how: by refusing to yield to forgetfulness.

Today is the solemnity of All Saints
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Bishop Crean meets Pope Leo

Bishop William Crean meets Pope Leo on recent pilgrimage to Rome

"Behold I'm doing a new thing" says the Lord (Isaiah 43)

Pastoral letter from Bishop William Crean

Recent picture of St. Colman's Cathedral, Cobh. Co. Cork

Light a Candle at St. Colman's Cathedral

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