Corpus Christi – Then and Now: Ireland and Croatia

It has been many decades – perhaps four – since I last attended a Corpus Christi procession. That would have been in Dublin where I grew up. It was, typically, a regular annual event involving the local community: families and individuals processing along a public road from the parish church to a designated outdoor altar. Households were encouraged not only to attend, but also to decorate their homes – many putting up bunting or floral displays along the route.

The highlight was Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament at a public place prepared for the occasion. The atmosphere was solemn, joyful and dignified – a genuine expression of shared belief. For various reasons the practice largely died out in Ireland, probably towards the late 1980s.

In former times the feast and accompanying procession took on a civic aspect as the new-found independent State aligned itself with the church.  It was a display of 'we the Irish people, independent, free and Catholic'.  In other words, as with all displays of faith it is complicated and sometimes influenced by purely cultural matters.

By 1996, the feast of Corpus Christi was formally transferred in Ireland from the traditional Thursday to the following Sunday. This reflected a wider pastoral reality: while Sunday Mass attendance has declined sharply over recent decades in Ireland, attendance at weekday Masses – including Holy Days of Obligation that happen to fall on a weekday – has fallen even more dramatically. One suspects that many Catholic schoolchildren in Ireland today would struggle to explain the meaning of feasts such as the Immaculate Conception (8 December) or the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (15 August) let alone  that of Corpus Christi held around this time of year, even if they recognise the names (adults might also be in this situation!). Imbolc, Brigit, Valentines, Pride, Halloween and, of course, Christmas are possibly better grasped or understood.  While there is something positive from a purely secular or non-religious perspective in these community celebrations it does not add up to the faith that we profess as Christians.

The contrast with Croatia is striking. There, Corpus Christi (Tijelovo) is both a Church feast and a civic public holiday (since 2001). Yesterday, the Thursday after Trinity Sunday, was the day of celebration. As we were leaving a restaurant in the beautiful Adriatic town of Nin, we were pleasantly surprised to immediately encounter a joyful procession of local people – children, women and men, young and old – walking reverently behind the Blessed Sacrament.

The procession was led by a cross-bearer and altar servers, with the priest carrying the monstrance beneath a canopy. What struck me most was that many participants clearly knew the prayers, chants and hymns by heart. The singing was confident and full, yet dignified. The procession moved unselfconsciously through busy tourist streets; no one seemed surprised or embarrassed. It simply belonged there.

Within living memory, this would have been far less straightforward. During the communist period in Yugoslavia, public religious expression – including processions – was often discouraged. While not always formally banned, such practices were typically restricted to church grounds or subject to official oversight. I recall visiting Dubrovnik in 1988 and encountering museum displays that dismissed religion as a relic of a superstitious ‘medieval’ worldview.  However, today, the ideological certainties of that era have faded and are now part of post-modern mythology, while public expressions of Catholic faith have returned with renewed confidence. Indeed, from what I witnessed, they are alive not only among older generations but also among many young people. In some ways, it almost feels as though Ireland and Croatia – so different historically – have exchanged places.

Here in Nin, I saw young people kneeling as the Blessed Sacrament passed. I saw small children scattering flower petals along the route - a traditional gesture of honour and reverence.

And how did I feel? I would say: uplifted, encouraged, inspired, humbled – and deeply moved.

The feast of Corpus Christi itself has a long and venerable history within the Church, dating back to the 13th century. Its public processions are a visible and communal proclamation of faith in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Over the centuries, this devotion has endured wars, persecution and social upheaval, adapting to changing circumstances yet retaining its essential meaning.

Croatia, like Ireland, has endured its share of suffering in the recent past. Christians, here, experienced real constraints and, at times, brutal persecution, under the communist regime.  Before that, there were traumatic and brutal inter-ethnic conflict as well as invasion from outside forces not to mention the existence of a Croatian fascist dictatorship acting as puppet of the Nazis. Yet the flame of Eucharistic faith has not been extinguished. On the contrary, it seems to burn with a quiet but steady strength.