#BURN THE PRIEST SEVENS AND MORE RARELY FULL#

Now I wanted nothing more than to stay, not leave for another country to become a priest at 11 years old. I realised for the first time how much I would miss my family. I heard my mother whisper that he couldn't face saying goodbye, and he'd be in the pub waiting until we were well gone. My father had promised to be home before I left, but when it came time there was no sign of him. In 1961, when I was ten years old, a curate visited and announced to the class: 'Boys, I want to talk to you about vocations to the priesthood' (a pre-teen Gabriel Byrne, pictured)

They pressed coins and notes into my hand, miraculous medals to keep me safe for the journey on the night mailboat across the Irish Sea. Neighbours and family came to the house to give a little party for my departure. I left for the seminary one night in October.

#BURN THE PRIEST SEVENS AND MORE RARELY FULL#

I saw myself, in that moment, on a horse, in a straw hat, a snow-capped blue mountain behind, crossing rivers full of crocodiles, hacking my way through jungle. 'Put up your hands, the boys who would like to follow the Lord. In our house, I shared a bed with my two brothers, while my three sisters slept together in another room across the hallway. There were photographs of them playing snooker and football, and of older boys studying in their own rooms, surrounded by shelves of books as sunlight streamed in through the windows. The curate gave me a magazine with an article about a seminary in a village near Birmingham, far away in England, which received boys my age who wished to train for the priesthood. And it became more and more real and insistent. I stood under a map of the world, pointing to places I had never heard of: Papua New Guinea, Tobago, Liberia.ДЄnd sure enough, I began to hear God. He passed photographs around the class: smiling men surrounded by laughing children. The curate showed us slides of missionaries in straw hats, flying planes, crossing rivers and jungles in faraway countries such as Bolivia, living a life of adventure like they were in The Hotspur comic. To be chosen is the greatest gift any family could have.' The curate continued: 'If you listen to the voice deep inside yourself, in quiet moments, you will hear him. 'And if he is, you must answer.' I thought of God trying to get through to me on the phone. A vocation is a word from Latin meaning 'to call'.' In 1961, when I was ten years old, a curate visited and announced to the class: 'Boys, I want to talk to you about vocations to the priesthood. The ghost of Oliver Cromwell was said to walk its stairways and corridors, and Queen Elizabeth I once slept in the stone chamber where we had our classes. Surrounded by a moat, the Christian Brothers' School House for Older Boys was a fine old Irish castle from the 13th Century. I can't help but imagine how different my life could have been had I remained on my once chosen path to the priesthood writes Gabriel Byrne (pictured)

Burn the priest sevens and more rarely