Berkley Center

Before my family and I moved to Ireland in 2022, we regularly visited the Emerald Isle. My first trip was in 2000 when a couple dozen undergraduate students, the college chaplain, and I traveled for three weeks around the perimeter of the island—both in the Republic and in Northern Ireland—studying its religious, cultural, and political history, including “the Troubles.” Especially memorable were our meetings with Catholics and Protestants in Belfast, Enniskillen, Derry, and Ballycastle. We listened closely as they shared their stories about the violence, including how friends and relatives were wounded and murdered, during the decades prior to the Good Friday Agreement of 1998. Some amazed us when they detailed how they forgave those who were responsible for the bombings and shootings that killed and injured their loved ones. Others even spoke about their own acts of terrorism—and their subsequent remorse and repentance.

Given that our journey happened only two years after the peace agreement, we could sense the tension and antipathy that lingered. Indeed, during a meeting with Reverend Ian Paisley, we heard for ourselves his hostile words cast towards Catholics. It would be a few more years—with the death of Pope John Paul II, whom Paisley previously had called “the antichrist”—until he would change his tune, expressing sympathy towards Catholics. Similarly, while Paisley had earlier said “Never, never, never,” in response to a 1985 Anglo-Irish agreement, near the end of his career, as one report observed, he gave meaning to the phrase “never say never” by joining a power-sharing government with former Irish Republican Army leader Martin McGuinness, bringing an official close to the Troubles. The lesson to be learned: “Peace cannot be made without the engagement of extremists waging the war.” We must never give up on the other, no matter how extreme they seem. We must cling to hope, rather than yield to despair.

Of course, that there are still extremists who are committing heinous acts on civilians should remind us that, as Vatican II’s Gaudium et spes noted, “peace is never attained once and for all, but must be built up ceaselessly.” From the massacre of Ukrainian civilians in Bucha by Russian armed forces in March 2022 to the slaughter of babies, children, parents, and the elderly on October 7, 2023, by Hamas, we are witnessing severe measures taken by extremists. Even here in Dublin, on the evening of November 23, far-right extremists rioted, burning buses and gardaí (police) cars as they encouraged one another via social apps to “kill all immigrants.” I confess, it seems an incredibly tall order to engage extremists in order to build up peace during this season of holidays.

Numerous times since February 2022, Pope Francis has spoken of “martyred Ukraine” as he has prayed for peace “wherever there is war,” including in Israel, Gaza, and Sudan. That word “martyr” is also being used, though, by members of Hamas, not for Palestinian civilians who are being killed by the Israel Defense Force, but for themselves as they fight and are killed: “Our wish is to be martyred.”

These seemingly contradictory invocations of martyrdom trouble me as December 26, the Feast of Saint Stephen, approaches. According to the book of Acts, Stephen was the first Christian martyr. As he was being stoned to death, Stephen prayed, echoing Jesus’s words on the cross, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:60, see Luke 23:34).

Called St. Stephen’s Day in many countries, in the United Kingdom and some commonwealth nations it is Boxing Day. While practices vary, depending on location, a common thread is going house-to-house to share small gifts. In Ireland, it is sometimes called Wren’s Day. One town where Wren’s Day is still celebrated is Dingle, one of my family’s favorite coastal places that we regularly visit.

On Wren’s Day (or “The Wren,” often pronounced “Wran”), people don masks and wear straw costumes (“rigs”) as they, accompanied by fifers and drummers, march through the streets with groups of Wrenboys (also known as Mummers), some from competing pubs (our favorite is O’Flaherty’s with its Green and Gold Wren), parading from one to the next.

What is the connection with the martyrdom of St. Stephen? Apparently, while the festival predates Christianity and, according to some accounts, the Gaelic word for wren—dreoilín —is derived from two words, draoi ean (“druid bird”), at some point the wren came to be blamed for betraying St. Stephen, and for this reason the bird was hunted on the martyr’s feast day. The wren would then be taken door-to-door by children who asked for money in exchange for a wren’s feather, which they believed brought good luck. Today, in Dingle, each Wren group also collects for charities as they weave through the village streets. This holiday is a time of celebration, charity, and community-building. Visitors (non-locals are called “blow-ins”), too, are welcome (my family are planning to attend this year).

Still, I must admit that I struggle with the martyrdom of St. Stephen, upon which Wren’s Day is vaguely based, especially given that his long diatribe (fifty-two verses) to the high priest and council concludes with “You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do” (Acts 7:51). Even though Stephen prayed for their forgiveness as he died, the preceding harsh words no doubt contributed to their becoming “enraged” (v. 54). The blood of the martyrs may indeed be the seed of the church, as Tertullian (155-240 CE) suggested, but what Stephen said seems at odds with the engagement with others, including extremists, that Paisley and McGuinness demonstrated, and the community-building and peaceful encounters that Wren’s Day now fosters.

I am disturbed especially by martyrs who kill others and also particularly perplexed that, as Stanley Hauerwas has written, the early “Christians took their children with them to martyrdom rather than have them raised pagan.” I find it hard to fathom that the father of 21-year-old Maximilian, who was executed in 295 CE in Carthage for refusing to serve in Caesar’s army, “went home happily, thanking God for having allowed him to send such a gift to heaven.” I do not wish for anyone to be martyred, let alone my two daughters, one of whom survived a school shooting.

Yes, some things are more important than life itself. Doing the right thing—or refusing to do the wrong thing—might require giving one’s all. Blessed Franz Jägerstätter (1907-1943)—an Austrian peasant who was executed by guillotine on August 9, 1943, for refusing to fight in Hitler’s unjust war—was rightly recognized as a martyr by Pope Benedict XVI in 2007. But I hesitate to expect martyrdom on the part of others, especially civilians in places like Ukraine, or my children. If there is any way to prevent or to minimize the likelihood of such martyrdoms, then, perhaps, in its own little way, Wren’s Day is one of those ways.

Saint Pope John Paul II once wrote, “Gestures of peace are possible when people appreciate fully the community dimension of their lives, so that they grasp the meaning and consequences of events in their own communities and in the world. Gestures of peace create a tradition and a culture of peace.” Similarly, Pope Francis observes, “All of us want peace. Many people build it day by day through small gestures and acts.” Wren’s Day may seem small on the scale of holidays that contribute to community-building and peaceful encounters across the spectrum of social and religious groups, especially during this latest era of extremism and martyrdom, but it helps me to hope.