Saint Mary’s Church, Mallow, Co Cork … the façade and belltower were designed by George Coppinger Ashlin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2020)
Patrick Comerford
During last month’s road trip, as I was on the road from Valentia to Cappoquin, along the banks of the River Blackwater, I stopped one afternoon in Mallow, Co Cork, for lunch and to see Saint Mary’s Church, the 200-year-old Roman Catholic church that celebrated its bicentenary in 2018.
I stopped again in Mallow yesterday [18 September 2020], on the road back to Askeaton from Cobh, where I was visiting Spike Island and revisiting Saint Colman’s Cathedral.
Saint Mary’s Church was built in 1818 on a site donated by the local landlord, Sir Charles Denham Jephson Norreys (1799-1888) of Mallow Castle, who was later MP for Mallow (1826-1859).
The belltower and façade at Saint Mary’s Church, Mallow, were added in 1900 (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2020)
In a critical observation, a later Nationalist MP for Mallow, William O’Brien (1852-1928), said the church was built ‘as a barn, like as humility could make it, in order to soften the wrath of the Ascendancy.’
But the appearance of today’s church is due to rebuilding work and renovations in 1900, transforming its impact with the addition of a new façade and belltower.
At first, the church was hidden behind a row of houses on the Main Street in Mallow. But when the houses were removed and the church became open to view from the street, Canon John Wigmore, the parish priest, built a new, Romanesque-style façade and laid the foundations for the campanile or belltower.
This church stands on a prominent site, set back from the Main Street of Mallow, and its large scale makes it a very notable feature within the town. This is heightened by the decorative emphasis of the Romanesque-style façade and the tall belltower.
Inside Saint Mary’s Church, Mallow, facing the apse in the south or liturgical east (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2020)
The frontispiece and tower, added in 1900, were designed by the architect George Coppinger Ashlin (1837-1921), were added in 1900. Ashlin was AWN Pugin’s son-in-law – his wife was Mary Pugin (1844-1933) – but also had many family connections with Co Cork. His notable works in Co Cork include Saint Colman’s Cathedral, Cobh.
The symmetry of Ashlin’s façade at Saint Mary’s Church is followed through in the well-executed decorative scheme, that incorporates many features typical of Romanesque churches, including the tympanums, rose window, arched openings and arcaded cornices, and door and window openings.
This is a T-plan gable-fronted church, built in 1818. However, it does not follow the traditional, liturgical east-west axis, and instead faces north and has its apse at the south.
A 19th century monument inside Saint Mary’s Church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2020)
The church has four-bay nave elevations, two-bay transepts, a shallow gabled chancel at the south or liturgical east end, and a three-stage, square-plan tower to north-west corner.
Inside Saint Mary’s Church, the interior retains many original features of interest and artistic quality. These include the Corinthian-style columns and a marble wall memorial designed by the architect JJ McCarthy.
The arcade in the churchyard, with English and Irish lettering within the arches, is another notable feature. This arcade and the entrance piers enhance the setting of the building.
The arcade in the churchyard in front of Saint Mary’s Church, Mallow (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2020)
When the church was 150 years old in 1968, a professional survey indicated the church needed to be reroofed.
The church was closed on 1 May 1996 for a year and major restoration and renovation work was carried out on the main structure and on the interior at a cost of over £1 million.
Saint Mary’s Church celebrated its bicentenary in 2018. I had anotherf opportunity late yesterday to see the church and to walk around the town.
Inside Saint Mary’s Church, facing the north (or liturgical west) end (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2020)
19 September 2020
‘This year, I thank God … to be able
to walk without looking behind me’
A small Shofar on the bimah or reading desk in the Beth El synagogue near Bunclody, Co Wexford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2020)
Patrick Comerford
In my Friday evening reflections, I often draw on the Authorised Daily Prayer Book, with its introduction, commentaries and notes by the former Chief Rabbi, Lord (Jonathan) Sacks, on Service of the Heart, published in London by the Union of Liberal and Progressive Synagogues in 1967, and edited by Rabbi John Rayner and Rabbi Chaim Stern, or on poetry I am reading.
But this evening is Rosh Hashanah, the beginning of the Jewish New Year, welcoming in the year 5781. Although celebrations are restricted this year, households will still be able to mark the start of the High Holy Days – also known as the ‘Days of Awe’ – and many synagogues will still be welcoming visitors for prayer with social-distancing in place.
Rosh Hashanah (רֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה), literally meaning the ‘head of the year,’ is a two-day celebration that takes place from sundown this evening (18 September) to nightfall on Sunday (20 September).
The first day of Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of ten holy days known as the High Holy days. This is a time of repentance when Jewish people reflect on their actions over the previous year. Traditional celebrations will see families and friends spend time together, pray, listen to the sound of the Shofar (the ram’s horn) and eat special food.
The tenth day, Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – begins this year at sunset on Sunday 27 September and ends at nightfall on Monday 28 September.
In recent weeks, I was exploring Cork’s Jewish history and legacy as part of this year’s ‘Road Trip,’ and went on a walking tour around Jewish Cork, following the new ‘Virtual Walk’ through Jewish Cork launched last month by the performance artist Ruti Lachs, who is active in the Munster Jewish Community.
The virtual tour is presented by Ruti Lachs and Marnina Winkler, and includes interviews, stories, and music, and a poem by Simon Lewis.
Simon Lewis’s Jewtown (Doire Press, 2016) is a collection of 57 brief poems that recall many of the stories of this area.
Simon Lewis moved from Dublin a few years ago to take up a teaching post in Carlow. There he joined a writers’ group and was challenged to write about his Jewish and Irish background, leading him to examine Jewish history in Cork.
The tenth poem in his collection, ‘Tashlich,’ is read by David Goldberg in the new ‘Virtual Walk’ of Jewish Cork.
‘Tashlich’ refers to the symbolic casting away of sins into a river or flowing water during Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. The anonymous narrator in ‘Tashlich’ recalls his dangerous escape from Tsarist antisemitism and recounts his present poverty in Ireland. But he also expresses relief at feeling free from physical danger in Cork:
I toss breadcrumbs in the river
and pray to God for forgiveness:
for the food I stole from the houses
in empty shtetls, the lies to the soldiers
at every checkpoint all the way
to the harbour at Riga, and the evenings
when I could barely breathe,
questioning my faith, broken from the day.
This year, I thank God for a mattress
on a dirt floor, a small knob of butter
melted in mashed potato, to be able
to walk without looking behind me.
Shanah tovah (שנה טובה), ‘Good year.’
Patrick Comerford
In my Friday evening reflections, I often draw on the Authorised Daily Prayer Book, with its introduction, commentaries and notes by the former Chief Rabbi, Lord (Jonathan) Sacks, on Service of the Heart, published in London by the Union of Liberal and Progressive Synagogues in 1967, and edited by Rabbi John Rayner and Rabbi Chaim Stern, or on poetry I am reading.
But this evening is Rosh Hashanah, the beginning of the Jewish New Year, welcoming in the year 5781. Although celebrations are restricted this year, households will still be able to mark the start of the High Holy Days – also known as the ‘Days of Awe’ – and many synagogues will still be welcoming visitors for prayer with social-distancing in place.
Rosh Hashanah (רֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה), literally meaning the ‘head of the year,’ is a two-day celebration that takes place from sundown this evening (18 September) to nightfall on Sunday (20 September).
The first day of Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of ten holy days known as the High Holy days. This is a time of repentance when Jewish people reflect on their actions over the previous year. Traditional celebrations will see families and friends spend time together, pray, listen to the sound of the Shofar (the ram’s horn) and eat special food.
The tenth day, Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – begins this year at sunset on Sunday 27 September and ends at nightfall on Monday 28 September.
In recent weeks, I was exploring Cork’s Jewish history and legacy as part of this year’s ‘Road Trip,’ and went on a walking tour around Jewish Cork, following the new ‘Virtual Walk’ through Jewish Cork launched last month by the performance artist Ruti Lachs, who is active in the Munster Jewish Community.
The virtual tour is presented by Ruti Lachs and Marnina Winkler, and includes interviews, stories, and music, and a poem by Simon Lewis.
Simon Lewis’s Jewtown (Doire Press, 2016) is a collection of 57 brief poems that recall many of the stories of this area.
Simon Lewis moved from Dublin a few years ago to take up a teaching post in Carlow. There he joined a writers’ group and was challenged to write about his Jewish and Irish background, leading him to examine Jewish history in Cork.
The tenth poem in his collection, ‘Tashlich,’ is read by David Goldberg in the new ‘Virtual Walk’ of Jewish Cork.
‘Tashlich’ refers to the symbolic casting away of sins into a river or flowing water during Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. The anonymous narrator in ‘Tashlich’ recalls his dangerous escape from Tsarist antisemitism and recounts his present poverty in Ireland. But he also expresses relief at feeling free from physical danger in Cork:
I toss breadcrumbs in the river
and pray to God for forgiveness:
for the food I stole from the houses
in empty shtetls, the lies to the soldiers
at every checkpoint all the way
to the harbour at Riga, and the evenings
when I could barely breathe,
questioning my faith, broken from the day.
This year, I thank God for a mattress
on a dirt floor, a small knob of butter
melted in mashed potato, to be able
to walk without looking behind me.
Shanah tovah (שנה טובה), ‘Good year.’
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