Original subtitles

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, + and of the Holy Spirit.

I will go to the altar of God.

To God who giveth joy to my youth.

Our help + is in the Name of the Lord.

I confess to Almighty God, to Blessed Mary ever Virgin,

to Blessed Michael the Archangel, to Blessed John the Baptist,

to the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul,

to all the Saints, and to you, brothers,

that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed:

through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault,

and I ask Blessed Mary ever Virgin,

Blessed Michael the Archangel, Blessed John the Baptist,

the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul,

all the Saints, and you, brothers,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

...taking also this glorious chalice into His holy and venerable hands,...

Wait!

Good morning.

I'm James Kinsella.

Father James Kinsella.

Ah, come off it.

What?

Look, we came for a priest: I'm sorry we can take no less. Sorry, no.

I am a priest, and the man you came for.

Padraig!

Padraig!

The storm coming up?

'Tis.

We'd better get started then: here you go.

Clear off.

What's the matter? Do you want to see my papers or something?

Clear off your hands of it.

I tell you I'm a priest!

Move your ass, come on now. What a...

Confounded man, what's wrong with you?

I'm waiting for a priest, whoever he is.

I am a priest!

Your Father Abbot is expecting me!

Will you come back here, please?

Have you been to Ireland?

Yes, I have, Father General. Very near to where this abbey is.

So you have some idea of what's in stock for you:

fanatic monks.

What sort of dialogue can one possibly have with men like that?

Well, we do have something in common, sir.

What, for instance?

We're priests and we are all members of the same monastic order.

I wonder, does this abbot believe that?

What do you mean, sir?

I mean that the Church today is like the early Christian Church:

revolutionary.

And this abbot belongs to the Church we have left behind.

But we are all men who desire to serve God, sir.

It's what used to be called a vocation.

You're quite right.

We all have that in common.

In any event,

vocation or not,

I don't propose to send you into a...

contest of faith with some wild-eyed holy man.

I will give you the power that you need.

Speaking of power, sir,

what about the Father Provincial in Dublin?

Oh, we tried that.

The Provincial has already made suggestions to the abbot

on 4 different occasions.

But, as you know, the abbots

are no longer bound to obey the orders

of Provincials.

However, he cannot ignore mine.

I will give you total authority on this mission.

Whatever you decide, will be the Order's final edict.

The obstinate abbot of Muck.

I see. I see.

He's one Thomas O'Malley, now in his 69th year.

The son of a greengrocer.

What is a greengrocer, James?

That's a seller of vegetables, Father General.

A verd..

Ah, verduraio.

He's the product of an Irish seminary,

prize winner in Latin,

doctorate in...

I can't read this.

10 years at Buckmore Abbey in England,

then cast down on this remote, little Irish island

at a comparative early age.

It would seem the Order had no great hope of him.

There's a lot more:

read it over at your leisure.

The Latin Mass.

I'd rather like to see one again. Wouldn't you?

I must confess, sir, I really don't remember it.

Don't you?

The priest with his back to the congregation,

the vestments,

I will go to the altar of God.

And the bell and the Holy.

Go, the Mass is ended.

How can one forget?

And now that old Mass is back into the scene

over there in Ireland.

Charter flights

from London, Boston, Los Angeles.

Pilgrimages from France, Germany,

even Bella Italia.

I wonder how long it would have gone on,

if it hadn't been discovered by the television people.

I think it is a cliché to say it was to be expected.

Even Vatican IV cannot bury 2,000 years in a few decades.

I would have thought Spain, but no.

Portugal, no.

What? Ireland.

Of course.

One is always blind to the obvious.

Well, here you are.

I suggest you hop a supersonic tonight

and go straight over to Amsterdam,

to the Ecumenical Council Center.

Just a formality, but in an affair of this kind everything should be

strictly kosher.

Right.

And after Amsterdam, you go straight over to Ireland.

Remember:

I want this settled by the end of the week.

Yes, sir.

Get the darned fool down of that mountain, James.

and if he gives you any trouble,

bite him.

Hello.

Good day.

It'll change, I would say.

I hope. Listen, can you help me please? I want to telephone Muck Island.

Are you a journalist, sir?

I don't want to bother the monks during the week.

God help them, they have enough to do on a Sunday, when they come over for the Mass.

It's all right, I'm a priest, they're expecting me.

Good day, Father!

Good day.

Sheila,

could you get us Muck Island?

No, it's for a priest.

What's up?

- Are you the priest from Rome, Father? - I am.

That's right.

- Here. - Thank you.

Hello, Fr. Kinsella here.

I say, Fr. Kinsella here.

Is that better? Yes. Look,

I want you to send a boat... I say

can you send a boat back? Your man refused to take me.

What?

No, he didn't know I was a priest.

Listen, I gotta get there today... hello!

Hello, hello!

We've been cut off.

It's a bad connection at the best of times.

You can try it again later, if you like.

So Padraig refused to take you across, aye?

That's a good one.

You know, the islanders out there are like the monks themselves:

they don't know the times have changed.

Are you an American, Father?

Yes, I am.

Grand country.

Tell me something:

what if the sea is too rough and the monks can't come over from the island?

Then there is no Mass on mount Coom.

No Mass?

But what of the tourists that come all this way? What do they do if there is no Mass?

Ah, there's a grand thing to see.

The pilgrims stay up there on the mountain

praying and waiting.

They be nice people.

When the Abbot put up a notice saying that Confession was only for the local,

parishioners, you know, the tourists abated.

- Confession? - Ah, that's a lot of work for the monks.

After Mass, the three of them met down there.

till it's time for all to go back.

But why does Confession take so long?

They are private confessions,

one person at the time in the confession-box.

The old way.

What about public Confession,

when the whole congregation stands before the Mass and receive absolution together?

- Ah, that never took here. - Well it took everywhere else!

I'm sorry.

How much do I owe you for the phone?

That's all right, Father.

Thank you.

May I use your phone again?

Certainly, Father.

Thank you.

Oh, and could you draw me a beer, please?

Have you ever been on the island before?

No, just flown over.

Was it the blackberries in the glass jars

and the redcurrants in the stone pots,

or was it the other way around, Father Abbot?

Blackberries. Jars.

So I was right!

Will you come down yourself now at take a look at the fruit?

We have a visitor.

No, sure the boat came back empty.

And no other boat could come in this weather.

Look!

It's that flying thing from Dingle.

I've seen passing over here many's the time.

Is he broke down, or what?

Did you not hear it come over, a minute ago?

How could I, down in the calefactory room, taking the stems off the berries?

Oh, that's not the priest from Rome, surely?

I should say it is.

I suppose they'd have to wear special clothes to go up in one of them things.

Now go on, Paul.

Tell Brother Martin to send the visitor up.

I'll do that, Father.

- I'll carry your bag, Father. - All right.

- Carry right on up to the top, Father. -All right, thank you.

Mind the last step: it's uneven, Father.

It wouldn't do to trip rolling up, would it?

-How are you? -Fine, thanks!

Good to meet you, Father Abbot, I'm James Kinsella.

Padraig left you at the peer: I'm sorry about that.

It seems he mistook you for a reporter.

And you've been having lots of them, I'm told.

But you came on your own anyway. Enterprising.

Do you know, that's the first flying machine ever to land on Muck Island.

Until now, it is as if we missed the century.

Would you have preferred that?

Preferred what?

To have missed the century.

-To have been borne in another time. -I should think not.

Under the English, unless you had a lust to be a martyr, it was not a time to be a Catholic priest in Ireland.

Of course, I forgot.

This is my Ecumenical Order of Mission and this letter is for you, from Father General.

Father General...

This is a very special day.

I have been an Albanesian monk for forty-five years, yet this is the first time I've ever had a letter signed by our Father General.

A pity it has to be a letter of censure.

But it is not meant as such, I can assure you.

Well, the tone is firm.

In conclusion, I will only say that while Father Kinsella is with you to hear explanations,

be it understood that his decision is mine and, as such, irrevocable.

Now, that sounds as if I'm in hot waters.

A cup of tea?

No, thanks.

Ah, you will!

Bro. Martin, bring us a cup of tea.

Two teas!

I'd just like to have another look at it, if I may.

Of course.

Do you know the television here?

Sometimes, if something big is going on in the world, we draw lots and five of us bicycle down to Dorin's in the village.

He has the television. Only five, mind! It is a small place.

You know of course that the Mass your monks say over on the mainland was shown on a television program two months ago.

Indeed we do and we've heard of nothing else ever since.

Who would have thought the Latin Mass could still be so popular?

That program has been seen and discussed by millions of Catholics all over the world.

You don't tell me?

Extraordinary!

Here's your tea, Father Abbot!

Thank you, Martin!

Would you like an egg with that?

No, no: we're having salmon for supper.

Salmon?

Yes, salmon.

If Father Manus can find us a few in the ocean pool.

It's an occasion, Martin!

Father Kinsella has come all the way from Rome.

This bread is our own baking. Irish soda bread. I hope you'll like it.

Thank you.

Poor Martin: he's getting old.

We all are here.

Last year I said to Father Matthew (he's our master of novices):

Matthew, when you retire, we'll retire the job with you.

For not one recruit did I see coming along.

But now, after that television program,

I could find enough recruits to fill a regiment.

I suppose that's a relief.

No, it is not.

You are not anxious for new recruits?

I am not. It is a hard life on this island.

Fishing, drying kelp.

Farming for a few potatoes. It rains a lot.

The monastery is cold and there is no way of heating it properly.

And we often find it difficult to make ends meet.

But, isn't that the thing about hardship?

I mean, men will accept it, if they feel it's for a worthwhile cause.

Just so.

But the monastic life, as you know yourself, Father, it's often something different.

I'd break all clergy into two groups., myself.

Proselytizers, or prayers.

Or, if you like, missionaries or monks.

Monks can also be missionaries, surely?

Not on Muck Island.

It takes a special vocation to live in a place like this.

Not many have it.

I do not have it myself, I sometimes think.

You lived on this island most of your life.

That does not mean to say I like it.

You'd prefer to be somewhere else?

I did not say that.

Of course not. I'm sorry.

I suppose I'm the missionary type myself.

I've always wanted to go to South America.

To be one of Father Hartmann's revolutionaries overthrowing the government?

You've heard!

This Father Gustav Hartmann. A fine man.

He is. He was my teacher.

In South America?

No, I studied with him in Boston.

He's crippled now, you know.

No. I did not know.

The Brazilian Militares tortured him so many times that they finally broke his back.

I should like to meet him.

What sort of things does he teach in those classes of his?

Well, he believes that the Church is now the perfect structure...

through which social revolution can be brought to certain underdeveloped areas of the world,...

and he shows how it can be done.

Tell me, does he talk much about God?

In what way do you mean?

I don't know; forget it.

No, go on, please.

What I mean is: is it souls he is after...

or is it the good of mankind?

I would say the second.

I gathered as much.

Well, of course I'm not much up on those things: I was never one for the missionary impulse myself.

But your zeal for the old Mass, your continuance of the Latin ritual here,

surely that could be interpreted as missionary spirit?

I thought you'd get round to that.

Now, come on! Let's go out!

Let's see if Manus has caught the salmon for our supper.

You'll stay the night?

Well, we've got a lot to talk about.

We do.

What did you tell the man with the helicopter?

If I ring, he can be here in an hour.

Well, call him in the morning then: come on!

Mind the step now.

I know. We do not wanna trip up Rome.

Good day!

Hello!

'Twill clear, I would say.

Hi. `Twill clear.

Where is Father Manus?

I hear tell he's looking for a couple of fish.

Well, then: let's go and see what he's got.

Father Manus!

He said the Mass when the television people came.

When he's got his salmons he puts them in the pool there.

Then when the boat goes to the mainland we sell them: they fetch a good price too.

So it is a special treat tonight eating salmon ourselves.

Things like that: it's the little things that keep us going here.

The jam in our lives.

He's a shy man.

When the telly people tried to talk to him he couldn't speak.

He's dying to talk to you though, I warn you.

Still, that's what you're here for, isn't it?

Explanations, wasn't that what the Father General called them?

Ah, we have our fish!

Well now, Father Abbot,

how about these, how will they do here?

They'll do! I think they'll do nicely.

And this is Father Kinsella, all the way from Rome.

Our champion fisherman, Father Manus.

Father, glad to know you.

From Rome?

-So you're the man from Rome? -Yes.

I'd never have thought it.

Why? What were you expecting?

Well, I don't know, I was expecting somebody a bit older.

You know, more the sergeant-major type and Italian. You're not Italian, you're American, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

Well, well, well, I'm delighted to meet you.

No, I'm not delighted at all because...

we don't know what you're gonna do here. Do we?

You hold your tongue, Manus, hold your tongue.

You know, when he was a little boy they told him it was a sin to tell a lie and I don't think he's told one since.

But seriously, Father, I'd love to have a bit of a talk with you sometimes, you know, because what's been happening here...

is quite astonishing.

Yes, yes. Well, I think that we'd better go inside if you want to have a word with the Father.

Come now, let's go.

Thank you, thank you.

We can't bring that with us, are sure we can?

Good man, yourself.

I'll be referee.

Now, Manus, here's your chance. Get at it.

Yes.

What were you going to say?

Yes, what was I was going to say?

I forgot what I was going to say, but I can tell you this much.

I haven't had a wink of sleep since I know you were coming.

It is as plain as the nose on your face.

We did nothing to start all this.

We've be going over to the mainland and saying Mass every Sunday the way we always did.

In Latin.

The way we were brought up to say it.

With the priest and the people facing the altar.

You see, facing God you can say, because there's the priest...

changing the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ,

the way Jesus told his disciples to do it at the Last Supper.

'This is my body and this is my blood.

Do ye this in commemoration of me.'

You see...

God sent His Son on this earth...

and He died for us, He died for our sins.

And that what the Mass is all about, you see.

I mean, just that:

a commemoration of His death.

And it was always in Latin.

Because Latin is the language of the Church and the Church is universal. I mean...

a fellow could drop into a church anywhere in the world,

anywhere and hear...

the very self same Mass,

the Latin Mass, the only Mass there ever was.

And the fact

that it was in Latin was part of the mystery.

Because you were not just talking to your neighbor

You were talking to almighty God.

You see.

Anyway, that's the way we've been doing it for the past 2000 years.

Well...

just on 2000 years.

Oh, it's a mystery. Of course, it's a mystery.

But, I mean...

what you're giving us now, that's no mystery about that at all: it's only a mockery, as far as I'm concerned.

A singsong, because you're not talking to almighty God, you're talking...

you're talking to your neighbor, and that's why it's in English.

Or German or Chinese or whatever kind of language you want to use in the church.

It's an entertainment, that's all it is.

And, of course, the people see through it. Of course, they do!

And that's what has them coming here to Coom Mountain.

If you could only see those people,

bareheaded,

with the rain pelting on their faces, when they see...

that piece of bread becomes the body and blood of Christ,

through the mystery and miracle of the Mass,

you wouldn't sweep all that away, sure you wouldn't.

To put in its place, what?

What you have put in its place, all this..

guitar playing and singing,

turning around and touching your neighbor, all that sort of cadology.

For no other reason than to bring people into the church...

the way we used to bring them into the parish hall for a game of bingo.

Ah, no!

I wished I had all that conviction, Manus.

You see, we have a lot of sermons in us here, in the back and beyond.

Yes, but what I'm saying, I mean,

it's God's truth. The Abbot will bear me out.

I don't know what God's truth is, to be very honest.

If we did, there wouldn't be any argument between us.

Would there?

No.

I suppose not.

Mine is nothing personal, you understand.

Oh, of course, Father, I know that and I appreciate your point of view.

You do.

I found the lamb.

Good man yourself, where was it?

Lying in Cullens' old byre,

warming against the pony.

-And the pony didn't mind? -Not a divil of this.

That's the power of prayer for you.

It took more than prayer, it took the whole day.

Well!

See its supper. Come, I'll show you our church.

Here we are.

Say, you were in Rome at the time of Pope John, weren't you, that time you were ill?

I was not ill:

I went on a holiday to England and then on the shrine of Lourdes and then on to Rome.

Where did you hear that I was ill?

It's Irish Romanesque.

Twelfth century, isn't it?

Beautiful, isn't it?

Yes.

There are advantages to be in a backwater.

This is one of the few abbeys in Ireland that escaped being almost entirely destroyed by Cromwell.

And by Henry the Eighth.

-You studied in Buckmore Abbey in England, didn't you? -Yes.

-That's a beautiful place. -Is it?

Have you ever thought of asking for a transfer?

A transfer?

To some place less remote.

It could be arranged, you know.

All the Abbots of Muck are buried here:

Fifty-one of them, all lay down like bottles of wine.

God willing, I'll be fifty-two.

A stupid ambition, but I have it.

It's funny,

this is place is no summer resort, but every time I take to the mainland I will not sleep there, if I can get back in.

I feel at home here.

I feel at home nowhere else.

What if you were ordered to another monastery?

By whom?

Father General, of course.

I hope..

I would hope...

#Holy God we praise Thy Name;#

#Lord of all, we bow before Thee!#

#All on earth Thy scepter hold,#

#All in Heaven above adore Thee;#

#Infinite Thy vast domain,#

Father, you must be tired after your journey:

I will show you to our guest house.

#Everlasting is Thy reign.#

Well, they are.

We have supper at seven. I'll pick you up at six-thirty.

OK.

-Father John. -Father...

-Father Colum -How do you do?

Brother Kevin.

Father Kinsella from our mother-house in Rome.

-Father Terence, in charge of our farm here. -How do you do, Father?

-Brother Alphonsus. -Brother...

-Did you come all the way from Rome on that flying machine? -No.

Did you hear what Brother Alphonsus wants to know?

That's a helicopter, Alphonsus, it couldn't fly all the way from Rome.

Father Daniel.

Father Matthew, our master of novices.

What novices?

-I'm jack of all trades and master of none. -Hardly so.

-Father Kinsella from Rome. -I know he is from Rome.

Indeed we all do.

You are here because of the wonderful response to our Masses in the mainland.

Did you hear that we had six charter flights from Boston and New York last month?

-Brother Paul. -Brother...

-You were saying? -I was saying...

that I hope that you will not try to change our ways.

What do you mean?

The Mass, Father.

I will be honest with you:

it will be a crime if we are prevented from doing this holy work.

I think we'll eat.

My deputy, Father Walter.

Father Manus!

Father Kinsella, now you seat on my right...

and, Walter, you seat on his other side.

Then he'll be surrounded by the Muck Island Establishment.

The eyes of all hope in thee, O Lord:

and thou givest them meat in due season.

Bless us, O Lord,

and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord.

Amen.

Serve our guest.

No, the brothers first, please.

It's my fishing.

We give Thee thanks, almighty God,

for all Thy benefits,

Who livest and reignest, world without end.

Amen.

May we have a word with you, Father?

Father Kinsella and I have much to discuss.

We go now up to the parlor for a cup of tea.

We haven't had a chance to meet our visitor.

Affairs of state, Father, work before play. This way please.

May I not just ask him one thing?

Good night, Father Matthew.

They get excited.

You know what they call you?

The inquisitor.

I'm hardly that.

It's good one, isn't it?

But what if you have a case of heresy on your hands?

As the General's man, you have the power to act against us, don't you?

This is the end of the twentieth century, not the beginning of the thirteenth.

I mean, how could we even define a case of heresy today?

I'll define this one for you.

Yesterday's orthodoxy is today's heresy.

But Father Abbot,

we are merely trying to create a uniform posture within the Church.

If everybody decides to worship in his own way, obviously that would create disunity.

Have a dish of tea.

All right.

-Milk or sugar? -No, black is fine, thank you.

All right!

Explanations.

As the Father General calls them.

Where shall I begin?

Do you know that Ireland was the only country in the world where, once upon a time,

every Catholic went to Mass on Sunday? Every one.

Even the men.

That's impressive.

Until the time of Pope John, that was,

when the new Mass came in.

Well we, like everybody else, we obeyed orders, we went over to the mainland, and said the new Mass in English.

And the people stopped coming to church.

Oh, some women.

But the men and the boys stood outside smoking.

So I was worried and I said to the monks:

what on earth are we doing if we cannot persuade the people to come back into the church?

It's the priest's job to keep their faith in almighty God and I don't want to tamper with their faith.

So I decided:

we go back and say the old Mass in the old way.

That's the whole story.

Well, hardly.

This spring you had twenty charter flights from Europe alone,

plus pilgrimage groups from the United States and Canada,

so large in fact that no church can hold the crowd.

So you set up shop on a big scale on Coom Mountain,

which in Cromwell's time was associated with rebellion.

Mass was said in secret, by outlaw priests,

with some members of the congregation on the lookout.

That was a mistake, but at the time I didn't see the connection:

I just wanted to accommodate the crowds.

But you accepted the gift of loudspeakers from local merchants here.

The people couldn't hear the service.

It's customary to accept gifts that aim at enhancing worship.

And private confessions, Father Abbot.

Is that another accommodation?

The people here are very conservative.

But you know as well as I that private confession is no longer permitted,

except in case where the sin is so grave that special counsel is required.

What am I to do?

The people here still think it is a special sin to molest a child or...

take another man's wife and all that sort of things.

What am I to do if people still believe that sin is mortal to the soul?

I know it must be difficult for you to accept, Father Abbot.

But the idea of Catholics confessing their sins to a priest in private is very distasteful to other groups within our Ecumenical Brotherhood.

But now that the new and easier form has been sanctioned by Vatican IV -

you have read the debates, surely?

I know I'm out of step,

but that's not the reason why you are here.

You know why I'm here.

You know what's happening here.

Mount Coom has become a place of international religious pilgrimage.

You mean a sort of Lourdes?

As Lourdes was before it was closed down, yes!

We are not like Lourdes!

There are no miracles here.

You went there once, didn't you?

A long time ago, yes.

After Lourdes, when you journeyed on to Rome, you asked for a meeting with our spiritual director there.

You said that what you'd seen at Lourdes had caused you to have some religious doubts.

It's a long time ago.

It's irrelevant to this discussion.

Father, it could be a connection.

Some men compensate for former doubts with an excessive devotion.

There is a file on me in Rome?

Well, the order tries to keep complete personal records, you know that.

Listen, I'll be frank:

we've just learned that an American network is planning a special program on your Mass here...

and Father General is very worried.

So that's it?

Why didn't you say so? I can ban the telly people. Oh, no trouble at all.

Even the President of the United States can't ban American television.

I can refuse to have them filming on holy grounds.

No, if you do that you may lend us a significance we never intended.

You see, what's happening here is being interpreted by some commentators as the first stirrings of a Catholic counter-revolution.

Oh, sure that's nonsense.

The Church is one body, Father Abbot:

what one part does affects the whole.

How I envy you!

It must be rewarding to be like you,

with the feel you can change something in the world like ours.

Next month...

the first world congress of Christian and Buddhist faiths will meet in Bangkok...

and Father General has been chosen as president of that meeting.

Now any scandal about our order at this time could be fatal to the success of that meeting.

A powerful faction is already in opposition. The Pongee demonstrations in Singapore last month...

were the beginning of that opposition.

Now do you see what I am talking about?

All I see is that because some congress is going on at the other end of the world...

we have to give up the old Mass here at Mount Coom.

It makes you wonder:

what does the Mass mean nowadays?

In Rome, what does it mean?

Well, religion has been opened up everywhere: the individual conscience is very important. Things are much more free.

Free, did you say?

Look,...

you are an Abbot with the powers of a Bishop.

I needn't explain the importance for the seniors of our order to act in concert to set an example.

I asked you a question about the Mass.

I don't think you answered me, Father.

The Vatican maintains that it is no longer obligatory for Catholics to believe...

that the bread and wine on the altar are actually changed into the body and blood of Christ,

except symbolically.

I mean it is no longer necessary to think of God...

as actually being present there, in the tabernacle.

So, a man does not need a big dose of faith any more?

I am sorry?

Nothing.

So, unless I abandon the Latin Mass I will be disciplined. Is that it?

I wish you wouldn't put it quite that way.

What other way is there to put it?

I'd like to know what powers you have.

Well, in, shall we say, a situation of deadlock...

I am in power to order your immediate transfer and install an acting Abbot in your place.

Sounds like the old days.

There's a great deal at stake here, Father Abbot,

I hope we won't be forced to invoke such serious measures.

I hope so too.

You don't seem to be well up on the new ecumenical rule of the World Council of Churches, Father.

The rule?

If I choose to appeal to the Amsterdam Council I cannot be transferred until the appeal is heard.

That might take several month.

In the mean time there'd be a lot of publicity.

Possibly.

I might even become the first martyr in that counter-revolution.

I am sorry: I overlooked the question about...

an appeal to the Ecumenical Council.

Well, if I were in your shoes, maybe I'd done the same thing myself.

However, as I do have that leeway...

Excuse me, Father Abbot, when may I hope to have an answer for Father General?

We'll talk about that tomorrow.

Martin knows to show you to your quarters.

Father Abbot.

Martin, Father Kinsella is going to bed.

Bring a light along for the road: he's not a night cat like yourself.

I'll do that, Father Abbot!

Didn't you eat the biscuit then?

Try a lemon puff: they are first class.

Thank you.

I'll pick you up at eight.

Good night.

Good night, Father Abbot.

Father Kinsella?

-Yes. -There is a telephone call for you.

Thank you.

It's all right Martin, I'll take him down.

Thank you, Kevin.

It's Western Helicopters: your pilot calling from Dingle.

Thank you.

Hello, Kinsella here.

Yes, Father. I called earlier.

There's a hell of a storm moving up from the coast of Spain.

Unless you get off tomorrow morning, you could be locked in for days.

I see. Well...

Look, I don't know when I can leave here.

I'll tell you what.

I'll call you before nine tomorrow morning. Can you be ready to come in if I give the word?

Surely, Father.

Grand. I'll see you soon, I hope.

Thank you for calling.

Do priests from Rome not dress like priests any more?

No, only on special occasions.

You are one of those new priests, aren't you?

The revolutionaries.

Are you interested in that?

Tell me, is it true, in South America some priests are overthrowing the government?

Yes, they are.

How can they be doing the likes of that?

Why not? The early Christians were revolutionaries, remember?

What has that got to do with saving souls for God?

Everything.

Do you know that in places like South America young priests of our age are dying for the cause of social justice?

But what are they doing being priests?

You know, if I had wanted to join the IRA, I'd have joined the IRA.

But I joined the Church.

So that the Church can be a powerful instrument of change.

It can be the revolution that people will follow: we have enormous influence.

You know, that's tripe.

Look at the people over there on the mainland.

They don't want your social justice.

They want the old Mass.

They want to believe in something.

Something more than this world can offer them.

And what do you offer, Father?

Perhaps a better life, Father, not a pie in the sky.

But you are a priest: that's not your job.

They want you to forgive them their sins,

to baptize them,

marry them, bury them.

To show them there is a God above them, a God who cares about them.

The old parish priest knew about that. You don't.

I'm afraid you're wrong. You're out of step.

Unless we alter our image we'll lose the people: times have changed.

Yes, they have.

And you and the likes of you are destroying the Church, in my opinion.

What, may I ask, do you know about it Father?

You're stuck away here in this God-forsaken island, what do you know about what's happening out there in the world?

You know, I do have eyes in my head.

I see the people on Mount Coom on a Sunday morning...

I've seen them myself, Father!

I didn't know you had visitors.

Is it my time?

Yes, I'll spell here for you.

I'm supposed to see Father Kinsella to his quarters.

Oh no, no. Look, if you have some work to do, don't let me hold you up: I can find my way back.

It's not work.

I'm going to the church.

We're praying all night to save the Mass.

I see.

And who are 'we'?

Some of the monks.

That's our way of trying to change things.

Prayer.

May I come with you?

Why not?

[Monks recite the Rosary in Latin]

So you are in on this?

You have good new for us, I hope, Tomás.

I have no news. I asked you a question.

Yes. I am the ringleader.

No, you're not.

Adding a lie to your sins will not help whatever foolish aim you have in mind.

You know very well what I have in mind.

It is what we all have in our minds.

Is it? Do you know my mind?

Asking God's help isn't a sin.

Breaking the law of obedience is.

Tomás, you're not going to be vexed with us, are you?

I'm very disappointed in you, Walter.

Now I want you to go in there and get them all off to beds at once.

So our prayers have been answered?

Nothing of the sort.

We have work to do here in the fields and in the abbey.

The mackerel are running and I want the nets out.

We live by work here.

I told you a hundred times we are not a contemplative order.

But this is a case when only the power of prayer can help.

We cannot run a monastic community like a holiday camp, Walter.

People taking into their heads to stay up half the night without as much as a by or with-your-leave.

I asked everyone here to behave as usual while our visitor was here.

I am very disappointed, Walter.

I am at fault, Father Abbot.

But you are not the ringleader, so there's no use pretending you are.

You are my deputy.

And as my deputy if you cannot obey orders, where am I?

I'm sorry, Tomás.

I'll get them off to bed.

God bless you.

Father Abbot says we must leave.

Father Abbot says we must leave.

And I want no holy vigils in cells, do you hear?

The holiest thing every man jack of you can do is turn out fit to work in the morning.

Father Matthew.

Father Abbot.

Where are the others?

What others?

The vigil.

What vigil?

It is a vigil of devotion to Our Lady...

for the purpose of preserving the Latin Mass on Mount Coom...

and here, on the Island of Muck.

The other monks have gone to bed.

I have sent them to bed.

Why did you do that, Father Abbot?

Because I am in charge here.

Father Matthew, it is now some time since I've had to rebuke you.

The last thing I want is to reopen our disagreement of former days,

but there is work to be done tomorrow.

You will, please, go to your bed.

I've made a solemn promise to Our Lady to hold a vigil in her honor this night.

When you were ordained as a monk,

you made a solemn promise to God to obey your superiors.

Go to bed.

May I ask then, Father Abbot,

what is your decision about the continuance of the Latin Mass on Mount Coom?

I've been informed by Rome...

that the Mass is now to be regarded as a symbolic ritual.

That is heresy, pure and simple.

Why is it heresy, Matthew?

Because the Mass is the daily miracle of the Catholic faith.

Bread and wine are changed into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Without that, what is the Church?

So our belief in Jesus Christ and His Church...

depends on a belief in miracles. Is that it, Matthew?

Of course, that is it.

St. Augustine said:

I should not be a Christian, but for the miracles.

Without a miracle Christ did not rise from His tomb and ascended into Heaven.

And without that, there would be no Christian Church.

Our visitor bring us an order from out Father General in Rome.

Would you obey that order if it instructed you to consider the Mass not as a miracle, but simply as a pious ritual?

Far being from me to speak against my superiors,

but I'm ashamed to hear that talk coming from you and under God's roof.

Are you now?

But, on the other hand, it seems you're not ashamed to act against the order of your superior,

even to the point of organizing the other monks to disobedience.

I do not consider that I have been disobedient to our rule.

You were told there would be no special observances tonight.

I acted according to my conscience, Father Abbot.

Hold your tongue and go to your cell.

I want you in front of the chapter at supper time tomorrow to apologize for you behavior.

I've had enough of you all these years, Matthew.

Insolence and insubordination is against every vow you took when you became a monk.

You should be ashamed.

Since you ask me to apologize, Father Abbot,

I humbly apologize.

And since you order me to retire,

I obey your order.

#Faith of our fathers, living still,#

#In spite of dungeon, fire and sword;#

#O how our hearts beat high with joy#

#Whenever we hear that glorious Word!#

#Faith of our fathers, holy faith!#

#We will be true to thee till death.#

#Our fathers, chained in prisons dark,#

#Were still in heart and conscience free:#

#And truly blest would be our fate,#

#If we, like them, should die for thee.#

#Faith of our fathers, holy faith!#

#We will be true to thee till death.#

#We will be true to thee till death.#

We loath changes!

Do you hear me?

-Good morning, Father! -Morning!

Come on, will you? We'll put a little bit of breakfast into you.

The Father Abbot was supposed to meet me here this morning.

Ah yes, he's been a bit delayed, you see.

You know there's a storm coming up and I have to make a decision about the helicopter.

Well, that's right, but he knows all about that.

Well.

Come in.

Ah, good day!

Morning!

One egg or two?

One is fine.

See you down here, now.

Butter for our visitor and bread and jam.

No, no: don't bother, I'm all right.

I wish you tried to find Father Abbot, Father, please!

Ah, yes! I'll leave you to your breakfast now.

Here you are now.

I hope you'll enjoy that.

I'm sure. Thank you!

I hope that egg is fresh.

There are old hens here that have not been laying well lately.

Father Abbot.

Brother Pious, if you please, go back to your work.

I am working.

There's a great curiosity here. The walls not only have ears, they have tongues as well.

Shall we go outside?

That's all right. I'm not hungry. You know about the storm?

You could be trapped here for days.

Terrible fate for a go-getter, like you said.

It's all right. I've ordered your helicopter: it will be here within the hour.

You ordered it?

Brother Pious and Brother Malachi, who is in there with you?

Nobody at all, Father!

Get back to your work, then!

They are like wireless sets all tuned in.

Let's take a walk.

Don!

There are sins of avoidance,

sins of omission,

it taunts me because of matter of conscience to act.

What about the sin of pride?

Now, look.

Our poverty, our chastity, our obedience:

three small gifts we have offered God,

when we became monks of this order.

And now we are going to ask God to give you back the last of these?

But we are doing a holy work!

Coming here in this helicopter,

telling us to stop!

No,

I must go down there.

Don't.

You know, I think that God sends down more trials on you than He does on the rest of us,

because He knows that you want to prove your love for Him.

Perhaps He is testing you now,

asking you to wait.

I'm not being willful.

Surely I must do what I know is right.

Surely my conscience doesn't lie to me.

Does your conscience tell you that you must break our law of obedience?

Well,

God does not make slaves of us.

Everyone of us has the right to choose.

And if you are sure that it is His will...

then you go down there now and do...

whatever it is you're going to do.

I certainly shan't stop you.

Go on, then.

Go on.

Here is a letter of apology to Father General.

I've not sealed it. You may read it if you wish.

Last night you said you felt you had no right to interfere with the believes of your congregation.

I was in error.

You promise to give up the Latin Mass yet you give no reasons.

And here is my letter of resignations.

I've asked to be transferred to another monastery,

not as an Abbot, but as an ordinary monk.

Why?!

Is it because you're unwilling to carry on Father General's order?

The order will be carried out at once.

There will be no trouble.

But what about the crowds on the mainland and the monks here? Of course there will be troubles.

We don't say the Latin Mass on the mainland, the people cannot attend it.

As for the monks, I'm their Abbot. They will do as I tell them.

Why do you want to resign?

Because I was wrong.

I have no right to tamper with people's faith.

I think you're being to hard on yourself.

Everybody makes a mistake and yours were made with the best of intentions.

Intentions don't count, actions do. Remember Martin Luther?

Insubordination is the beginning of the breakdown of the Church.

And I have been insubordinate.

I don't believe that, Father Abbot.

I have...

overheard you lecture Father Matthew last night on the vow of obedience.

That was spoken from the heart.

But it's easy to lecture others.

In my own case I've gone against the orders of my superiors.

But there is no need for you to resign.

You're a holy man and a good man. And you're needed here.

Your duty is here as the Abbot of Muck.

No.

I've come to the end of a long road.

I disagree, Father Abbot. As Father General's plenipotentiary, I order you to stay. You can tear this up.

There's something I must explain to you.

The helicopter will be here in a few minutes.

Let's go up and get your bag. We can talk on the way.

I did not do this for holy reasons.

I did it because I myself lack conviction.

There's a file on me in Rome, there's a file about my visit to Lourdes. You've read it.

-Yes, I have. -But it doesn't explain...

I'll tell you now what happened.

I went there with two priests.

We were on our way to Rome and we stopped off to visit the shrine.

A pious pilgrimage!

The Shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes in France.

The place where the Virgin Mary was supposed to have appeared before an ignorant peasant girl.

A place where people come from all over the world,

because they believe that God's Mother...

will ask Her Son to cure them.

Those poor sick people!

Blind children, men without arms or legs,

dying women on stretchers:

every deformity,

every mortal ill.

And all of them praying for a miracle,

spending their life's savings to get there.

Oh, it's a sad, dreadful sight.

I stood at the shrine, Father, and...

something came over me.

I went back to the hotel and shut myself up,

knelt down and tried to pray.

I tried to pray.

It's not the first time I've had this trouble.

Even before Lourdes...

sometimes here on the island I've gone to church and started to say the Our Father.

Our Father, Who art in Heaven,

But then I've looked at the altar and I know that there is no Father in Heaven.

That's a pitiful thought, don't you think?

A man who became a monk,

with most of his life gone,

kneeling in church and staring at the altar and knowing that there is nothing on the altar,

but wafers of Communion bread.

Not God,

just pieces of bread.

When that would happen,

when the words were just words,

I'd begin to tremble and shake.

as a prelude to Hell.

I suppose you'd call it a depression, I call it Hell.

An empty state.

The Hell of a priest deprived of God.

And when I get into that state, oh, it's weeks, it's months!

And I never know when I'm gonna come out again.

After Lourdes, it was nearly a year.

So now I'm afraid to pray.

You see,

I don't know if I'll come out again.

You...

don't pray...

ever?

No, not for long time.

Not for years.

Oh, what about saying Mass or your daily Office? Does no one notice?

It's strange but they don't.

One can pretend a preference for private devotion,

but public prayers, well there are plenty of monks who lead them.

But why have you stayed?

It's a hard life: you said so yourself.

But it's my life.

I'm a sort of foreman here, a sort of manager.

It's not far different from a secular job.

The monks work hard and I'm here to keep them together,

see they make a go of it.

We are like children.

It's a simple life.

We pass the days as if there were and endless supply of them.

So, you see,

you didn't know what sort of a man you were asking to stay on as Abbot.

You travel light.

That's the best way.

Let's go down to the fields: I want to get you off before I face up to them.

You're expecting trouble?

No.

The thing about being in charge is to be firm.

Like Father General and yourself.

By the way,

what shall I say when the press and television people come along?

You can refer all inquiries to me, in Rome.

I will do that.

Let me deal with them.

Don't you say anything.

Have you any news for us, Father Abbot?

Are the horses brought up from the lower field?

They are!

May I ask our visitor just one question?

You may not.

Let us pass.

He is a holy man, but he's also very tiresome.

There are those that can cause trouble...

but there are also those who are trouble.

Father Kinsella!

You have both letters, Father.

When will you let me know of my replacement?

So be it.

Safe home, Father.

Safe journey.

Thank you, Father.

We will not change! Do you hear me?

Father Abbot!

Yes, Walter?

Can you tell us now? The visitor is gone.

Our visitor is gone, yes.

I am ashamed of you.

Are we religious men or are we hooligans?

I'm sorry, Father Abbot.

I think we are all sorry.

But can you tell us now?

What's going to happen?

Yes, I can tell you now.

We've had orders from Father General in Rome.

From now on the Mass will be said in English, in the new manner, the altar facing the congregation.

I've written to Father General telling him we would do as he says.

That is all.

That is all?

We have had our orders.

It is up to all of us to carry them out to the best of our abilities, isn't it?

I'm sure we will do that, will we not?

And the first thing we'll do is all of us get straight back to work now.

And that is not the half of it, Father Abbot!

Why you have not told the community what you told me last night?

Last night I told you to go to bed.

Now I tell you to go to work.

You also told me we are instructed no longer to believe in the miracle of the Mass.

That is so.

Then how can a thing be a miracle one day and not a miracle the next day?

I don't know.

Maybe you are a greater theologian than the Pope...

or the Vatican Council, Father Matthew. I am not.

I am a monk and I do as I am bid.

No, no, no!

Oh, Donald!

-It's blasphemy! -No, Donald, you're not well.

-Sacrilege has come here! -You're not yourself, take control of yourself.

All of you get back to work now.

Wait, wait. I will not be put off.

I will not be ordered to believe something which I do not believe.

No one can order belief: it is a gift from God.

Look, what he's proposing is a denial of everything the Mass stands for.

Please!

Let us go into the church.

A miracle is when God comes here into this church among us.

But you said the opposite!

You said that the sacrifice of the Mass is just ritual!

That the bread and wine remain bread and wine, that there are no miracles!

Yes.

Prayer is the only miracle.

We try to pray.

If our words become prayer,

God will come.

Let us pray.

Our Father,

Who art in Heaven,

Hallowed be Thy name,

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

on earth as it is in Heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.