The Jumping Church of Kildemock. Speculations on Catholics & Freemasons in 18th century Co. Louth
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The other
day I was reading a blog post on the Historic Graves site by Shane Lehane about
the mysterious and miraculous movement of the graveyard at Loughane, Co. Cork.
The local legend holds that the resident corpses so objected to the body of a murderous
priest-hunter being laid to rest among them that they uprooted themselves (and
took their gravestones with them) to an adjacent location at Matehy (pronounced
maw-te-ha, but that’s another story).
While it is an interesting story, I remain to be convinced about all the facts
of the case.
Top: Interior of the west wall of Kildemock Church. Bottom: Exterior of the west wall of Kildemock Church.
Around the
same time I restarted a personal project, in hibernation over the summer, to
share selections of my slide collection on Facebook. For anyone not familiar
with the project, the short story is that I’ve been taking archaeological
photographs since my first excavation (1989) and had amassed a collection of
over 3,000 transparencies when I gave up on the format about 10 years ago. Most
of them have never been seen by anyone but me. While I’ve been given dire
warnings that anything posted on Facebook becomes the instant property of Mr.
Zuckerberg (not true), my feeling was that it’s better that SOMEONE sees them,
rather than letting the moulder on my shelf. Right now there are four albums available for public view, containing just under 800 photos.
General view of Kildemock church and graveyard.
As I was
uploading the latest tranche, I was struck by a number of shots taken in
Kildemock, Co. Louth, and the parallel they provided to the Loughane/Matehy
story. The images were taken one evening in 2001 when I was working on one of
the Northern Motorway excavations. The site is like many in rural Ireland in
that it contains a (well tended) collection of gravestones old and new
surrounding a ruinous church. The site is dedicated to St. Diomoc/Modiomoc, who
is alleged to have been an early follower of St. Patrick and have hailed from
the Dál gCais. Built into the walls of the church are a
bullaun stone and a piscina. The bullaun could be of any date, but the piscina
is broadly medieval – I’d say 15th to 16th century at a
guess.
Top: Bullaun stone built into the wall of the church. Bottom: Piscina built into the wall of the church.
What sets
this little church apart from the ordinary is the legend associated with the
site. The story goes that someone buried an apostate of the Catholic Church
just inside the wall of the building (some of the stories claim that the man had
been excommunicated) … and the church didn’t like it. The building so rejected the
presence of this individual that it shore off its own west wall and ‘jumped’ it
back three feet so that the 'sinner' lay outside the building. The other story is
that there was a terrible storm in 1715 and the wall fell over. Although the
latter seems to me to be the more likely story, there appears to be great local
adherence to the mythology. I am sure that there is a fertile field of research in the exploration of the psychology that drives an individual to embrace a
supernatural over the more rational, if mundane, explanation – though it is not
my objective to delve into that here. Indeed, the author of the piece used in
the Irish Identity web page goes to some length to elevate the supernatural explanation
over the prosaic explanation that the wall just fell over, albeit in an
(apparently) unlikely and unusual position.
While I may
take issue with the means by which the church ‘jumped’, the Irish Identity page
does include a detail that I was previously unaware of – the man had been a
mason and had converted from Catholicism to Protestantism and had fallen to his
death from the scaffolding at Stabannon church, then under construction. While
the context given here is of the stone mason kind (or ‘operative mason’), I
cannot help thinking that this is a muddled reference to the burial of a Freemason
(or ‘speculative mason’) in the graveyard. My reasoning is simple – there is
the grave of a freemason just outside the west wall of the church!
The
photograph below shows an 18th century gravestone with the quite
typical arrangement of an IHS monogram with a cross over the ‘H’. Below this
are a pair of winged cherub heads, and while they look slightly surly, they are
still typical of the period and Catholic gravestones in particular. What is
less typical in this context is the clearly identifiable square-and-compass to
the left of the IHS and what is probably a plumb, to the right. Both are Masonic
symbols indicating that the individual buried here was a Freemason and had
attained the rank of, at least, Junior Warden (indicated by the plumb), if not
Worshipful Master of the lodge (indicated by the square-and-compass).
Gravestone for Morgan, died 1791 with Catholic and Masonic symbolism.
While my
research is hardly exhaustive, I am aware of no other gravestone where the
emblems of Catholicism and Freemasonry are so clearly joined in harmony. The
stone is dedicated to a Mr. Morgan who died in 1791. This may be 76 years after
the fateful storm of 1715, but I wonder if there is not a kernel of truth
wrapped up in all this mythology. I do not claim to be definitive, but I think
I may have spotted something that others have missed.
The first ban by the Papacy on Catholic membership of the Masonic Order was promulgated in 1737.
This ban was reiterated in later years in 1884 and 1917 and contained provision
of the automatic excommunication of any Catholic who became a Freemason (it
should be pointed out that there has never been a ban on Catholics becoming
Freemasons enacted by the Order itself). My suggestion is that when Mr. Morgan
died in 1791 he may have been sufficiently proud of his Masonic and Catholic heritage to have the
symbols of both carved on his gravestone … but perhaps other people in the
locality were less enthusiastic about his affiliations. To them, he would have
been automatically excommunicated from the Catholic Church when he joined the
Masonic fraternity, and would have had no place within the consecrated ground
of the graveyard. Perhaps, just perhaps, this story of someone allegedly undeserving
of the burial rites of his church got intertwined with a story of the church
wall being blown down in a storm. The result could just be the tale we have
today of the ‘Jumping Church of Kildemock’. As I say, I make no claims to veracity;
I am just proposing an alternate theory. It may have some merit, but then
again, it may not.
As an
aside, I might add that the Catholic Church no longer automatically
excommunicates their followers who elect to join a Masonic lodge. Since 1985 such
people are considered to be in a position of Grave Sin, and may not partake of
communion. However, the open welcome of the Masonic Order to all monotheists,
regardless of creed or confession, remains in place to this day.
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