Islands of Our Lady of Solitude

The Islands of Our Lady of Solitude

by John F. Doran mhm

In Spain and in the countries of the former Spanish Empire the Mother of God is venerated between Good Friday and Easter Sunday as ‘Our Lady of Solitude’. Her image is dressed in black. In the 1770’s a small Spanish garrison named a remote and uninhabited group of islands in her honour. Others, sailors from the French port of St Malo, named the islands ‘Les Maloines’. From this came the Spanish name, ‘Las Malvinas’ – known to us today as the ‘Falkland Islands’ (after Lord Falkland.) The islands (two fairly big, and many other smaller ones) are about half the size of Wales. There is a population of about 2,000, and not many of these are Catholics. (Today the overall population is boosted by military personnel and many contracted workers.) Nonetheless, in the 19th century a diocesan priest called Fr Foran (from the NE of England) ministered to the Catholics, and also to three or four families of shepherds from Harris and Lewis

The original Lutheran Church, now an ecumenical chapel, in which Fr John celebrated Mass.

in distant sheep-farming outstations, even though they were not Catholics. In the 1880’s Salesian priests arrived. They were followed by English-speaking Salesian Sisters from Uruguay and Argentina who began a school for girls. The Salesians stayed until World War II. Mill Hill was then asked by Rome to take over. An ‘Apostolic Prefecture’ (a kind of diocese) was established: it covered a huge area of the South Atlantic – from Ascension Island, to St Helena, Tristan de Cuna, - and all the way to South Georgia. The first Prefect Apostolic was Mgr. James Ireland who came from Preston. Mgr Danny Spraggon mhm succeeded Mgr Ireland as Prefect. He was assisted by Fr Austin Monaghan, - both of them from the NE of England. They were there when the Argentinians invaded the Falklands; their role in comforting their people throughout the conflict was greatly appreciated. 14,000 foreign soldiers had arrived – seven for every inhabitant of the Falklands! They had been sent by the military dictatorship in Buenos Aires, partly to distract attention from the growing opposition to their corrupt rule. (Ironically, in 1982 Argentinian sailors still wore a black stripe on their uniform to commemorate the death of Nelson, so close had been relations between Britain and Argentina.) The invading soldiers

were on the whole well-behaved, well-disciplined, and even admired by their British counterparts. The war being over, the third Apostolic Prefect was Mgr Anton Agreiter who came from Germanspeaking South Tirol (an autonomous region of Italy.) So he had some experience of the reality of settling old disputes. I was appointed as assistant to Mgr Agreiter, and spent four years as ‘officiating chaplain to H.M.’s Forces, South Atlantic.’ We were responsible also for the pastoral care of the people on Ascension Island, St Helena (where an MHM was stationed for many years), and Tristan da Cunha.

Monsignor Anton Agreiter, MHM served as theApostolic Prefect of the Falkland Islands and Ecclesiastic Superior of St. Helena, Ascension Island and Tristan da Cunha.

The journey to the Falklands takes eight hours by RAF to Ascension Island, and a further eight hours to Mount Pleasant – the huge military complex which is over 30 miles from Port Stanley, the capital of the Falklands. I spent time with soldiers, sailors, airmen, and their civilian workers (many of them Scots). These contract workers could make good money working for companies like ‘Turner Diesel’ and ‘Kelvin Catering’. But most of my time was spent with the islanders. I was also able to visit South Georgia, then the most southerly ice-free harbour in the world. It involved a three day sea-journey to reach the small British garrison based at the abandoned Norwegian whaling station of Gritviken. On the day before Pentecost we visited the chapel (formerly Lutheran) which had been renovated by the Royal Engineers. Next day, I said Mass there for two Catholic soldiers of the Light Infantry. I invited them to look over their shoulders, through the open door – to the mountains and the glacier…and the dazzling blue sea with an iceberg slowly drifting by! I said something like “here we are, proclaiming the Gospel to the ends of the earth.” Back in Port Stanley, tourists (including those from big cruise liners) would turn up at our little house beside St Mary’s Catholic Church. They would express astonishment that the Catholic Church was present here also – in this faraway place. The Mill Hill Missionaries withdrew about twenty years ago, and responsibility passed to the Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales.

I write this on an autumn afternoon in Cardonald, the sun playing on the golden leaves outside my window. Words of Pope Francis, the Psalms, and Francis of Assisi play about in my head… something about Nature praising God by its very existence…and most beautiful of all – the people we meet; all give witness and glory to God. Our task and our privilege, as humans, is to put it into words. We do so in the Psalms and great prayers, and especially in the Liturgy of the Church - but also in our own simple words and memories.

Jean, a member of QARANC - Queen Alexandra’s Royal Army Nursing Corps - and myself on Bird Island, off South Georgia. The British Antarctic Survey station is in the background.

Fr John Doran, closest to camera, on the Wickham Heights, East Falkland, accompanied by Peter and Andy of the Cheshires and Danny, of the RAF Regiment.