Canon Donal O'Connor: An appreciation

The night before centenarian Fr Donal O’Connor died, in the excellent care of St. Vincent’s ward at Dungarvan Community Hospital, a pack of four Papermate Joy ballpoint pens sat on a hardcover copy and books on his table. 

An inveterate reader, Donal loved to write: on scripture, in which he was professionally trained; history, particularly Ardmore, Declan and Malchus; and art, Caravaggio his favourite.

He wrote a speculative article on the Wedding Feast of Cana and sought the expert opinion of an eminent professor at the Biblicum Institute in Rome. 

The terse reply, ‘I’m not the person to ask,’ Donal took to mean he was out of his depth and extremely naïve to be weighing in on such serious scriptural matters. 

It knocked his confidence and he stopped writing. 

Dungarvan native and well-known theologian Jim Mackey, encouraged him to write again, leading to 'Job: his wife, his friends, and his God', published as part of the Maynooth Bicentenary Series.

Donal described writing projects as his babies; he lived with each one, nurturing and developing it, until the day came to post the manuscript to the editor. 

Then he felt lonely and bereft for a week or so. Seeing it in print brought great satisfaction.

A creative soul, he regretted allowing the rigidity of academia and formality of poetic form in his early years to prevent him from expressing himself through poetry.

As a professor in Maynooth, he became part of the folklore. 

Going out to students making a racket at his door one night, he asked softly, ‘can you hear my television?’ ‘No Father.’ 

‘Neither can I!’ 

A month before he died, I saw Donal writing carefully in his hardcover book in the community room, his back turned to the blaring television and carer-led interactive session with other residents. 

Two weeks later, he spoke with great joy of the notes he was penning about Malchus, first bishop of Waterford: "It will be good, with original insights."

Donal always recognised and sought to encourage people to use and develop their talents. 

While teaching in St. John’s College, he asked a student with good hands to make a model of the Temple in Jerusalem; he advised Fr Jim Curran, a good singer, to have his voice trained. 

A passionate art lover, he supported artists.

When, in reply to his request for feedback after a lecture, Fr John Kiely, then a student, said it was difficult, to which Donal said: ‘Jakus boy, do you think I find it easy!’ 

From the word go, he encouraged me to write, and grateful to have known him, I attempt this sketchy appreciation.

He had the great knack of making things simple. 

For example, he said the evangelists didn’t follow Jesus around, jotting down his every word and deed, to produce the gospels. 

Rather, they had inherited a huge amount of information about Jesus, stories, incidents and sayings that had nothing to do with each other, a bit like a jigsaw!

Refusing oxygen two days before he died, he told the nurse, ‘I’m ready to go.'

Sitting with colleagues around the bed a few hours before he drew his last breath, on the eve of the Assumption of Our Lady, I learned Donal had been present in St. Peter’s in 1950 when Pope Pius XII declared the Dogma of the Assumption. 

Just as he slipped past the security into the Basilica on that historic and dramatic occasion by offering to carry the case of a Spanish Cardinal, we pray that Donal will now be elevated with Our Lady to sit beside the Saviour he sought and found in the Scriptures, in his heavenly home.

A Dhónaill, scoláire, scríobhneoir, sagart, Go dté tú slán, is guí orainn peacaigh. 

Donal, priest, writer, scholar, safe home and pray for us sinners.