It’s only a matter of time before we kill the gods we’ve created out of mere mortals

JEDWARD, BERTIE Ahern and Giovanni Trapattoni.

What have they got in common? Before you give a cynical, sarcastic or rude answer not fit for a quality newspaper, allow me to explain. They are examples of gods that we Irish create, worship and ultimately will kill off.

We’re all guilty of it and I’m not excusing Irish women. I’ve seen some weird things in my time. Things that would make a grown man cry. One thing I’ll never forget are the queues of women outside Brown Thomas one Saturday morning. The prophet known as Michael of O’Doherty had foretold that new handbags by Louis Vuitton would manifest in the store.

Grown women fainted as they waited for the miracle to appear.

In Inca civilisation young women were sacrificed at the altar to appease the gods. Here, on a Saturday night when international rugby players enter a nightclub, similar scenes occur. In a ritualistic sacrifice, hundreds of brave young wans fling themselves on to the alter to worship.

Staying on the subject, some of you may have sniggered when self-proclaimed visionary Joe Coleman claimed to see Our Lady at Knock a few weeks ago. Joe also saw a lot of notoriety in recent weeks. But even Joe and his all-seeing eye could not have seen The X Factor Jedward phenomenon. Indeed it was only predicted in the sacred book of Louis (22:2):

“And yea on the sixth day one shall appear as two, And verily there shall be great rejoicing, And they shall sing like winged creatures with hooves, And Simon of Cowell shall drop his nets and follow them

According to the visionary, Blessed Louis Walsh of Kiltemagh, Jedward will once again come and speak to the nation on Saturday. Admit it, you want to follow too! For a depressed nation, Jedward have truly come down like manna from heaven. And credit Louis the Lip, who knows we need an uplifting miracle in these times.

But how do we explain all this? In social psychology there is a phenomenon called attribution theory. We give people qualities which they may not always possess. How many of you have gone out with the man of your dreams? Ah, those early days. You told friends about that new lovely bloke. So amazing, funny and caring. A real charmer. God-like, in fact. He gets on great with his and your mother. In fact, Mother Teresa wouldn’t beat him for kindness.

Later when you found said bloke bonking your best friend in your niece’s bed at that party, you knew. Trust me, gods always fall.

The other crucial thing in our obsession with making gods is the showbiz element. I was watching television recently and saw Irish bishops at some ceremony. Not a woman in sight. And I saw all these holy lads with staffs and weird druid hats and the thought struck me that nobody does showbiz better than the Catholic Church. Remember the Popemobile?

We also created the Celtic Tiger gods. How we worshipped the yummy mummies who had nine properties, ten maids and children that spoke fluent Mandarin. Bankers and property developers became gods. Now we spit on them as they mutter words like forgiveness.

The beatification of Bertie Ahern was rudely interrupted by a recession. For a while the poor man could do no wrong. He led the faithful to the promised land of semi-detached houses and a second home in France. And now the cratur, what thanks does he get from his disciples? None, only scorn and ingratitude. How easily we forget...

So we create, worship and then kill our gods. Real spirituality is a different matter altogether. Until we find it the Berties, Trapattonis and Jedwards will have to do. But go easy on them.

By the time you read this, Giovanni Trapattoni will either be getting the freedom of Dublin or his guts will be on sale in Moore Street.

Amen.

- Eamon Keane