Kelly, John C, 1917-1982, Jesuit priest
- IE IJA J/205
- Person
- 03 October 1917-04 December 1982
Born: 03 October 1917, Fairview Strand, Fairview, Dublin City, County Dublin
Entered: 07 September 1935, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Ordained: 28 July 1948, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 02 February 1953, Belvedere College SJ, Dublin
Died: 04 December 1982, Milltown Park, Dublin
Father was manager of an English firm.
One younger sister.
Early education was at a National and Christian Brothers school, he then went to Belvedere College SJ.
by 1966 at Bergamo, Italy (VEM) studying
◆ Irish Province News
Irish Province News 58th Year No 1 1983
Obituary
Fr John C Kelly (1917-1935-1982)
I am not in a position to write a complete obituary of Jack Kelly, having known him for only part of his life his years as spiritual father and teacher in Belvedere (1950-'62) and, to a lesser extent, his time as a teacher of philosophy in Milltown (1968-'82), after his stint in University Hall, working with the students and assisting with Studies (1962-'66), and his two years in Bergamo, studying communications (1966-68). A Dubliner, he was at school in Belvedere and joined the Society in 1935. His years of formation followed the normal pattern at the time – novitiate in Emo, Arts degree in Rathfarnham, philosophy in Tullabeg, regency (in Clongowes), theology in Milltown Park (ordination in 1948) and tertianship in Rathfarnham Castle. It is on the next phase, the twelve years in Belvedere, that I would like to concentrate. It was a significant period of his life, the decade or so after ordination, and an enduringly valuable part of his apostolic work.
It was apparent from the funeral service, moving as this was, that not all in the province realise how large Jack Kelly's influence was in Belvedere during the fifties. Such influence was the more remarkable in view of the number of Jesuits in the community at the time, many of them memorable and influential figures themselves. Even among these, Jack was special.
He was never, I think, a full-time teacher. TB limited his activities at first. Later, when Charlie Heron died suddenly in May 1959, Jack was drafted in to take his place, thus adding French classes to those he already had in English. Later, when we were in Franz Schrenk's philosophy class, Jack introduced us to T S Eliot. Mirabile dictu: Eliot was not then deceased the statutory half-century or so evidently required at the time for inclusion in Department of Education syllabi - in fact he was still alive! In addition to teaching, Jack helped Oliver O’Brien with the operas and plays in the early sixties and produced Shaw's "You Never Can Tell" himself in 1962. He was also a stylish and stimulating director of the Poetry Debating Society.
But the real source of his influence in Belvedere in those years was, I think, as spiritual father. In this capacity he occasionally addressed the whole school in the chapel at lunchtime. We looked forward to these homilies, not only because they were a welcome variation on the daily rosary but also and more importantly because Jack was always interesting. I particularly remember a reference to “flying missiles”. We laughed (surreptitiously) because Jack pronounced “missiles” as “missals”, with that mixture of the quirky and the fastidious which he sometimes displayed. But we listened too. It was typical of Jack that such contemporary matters should have found their way into his sermon. Religion, as presented by him, never appeared antiquated or irrelevant.
There was another occasion when he thought we were making too much noise and disturbance in the chapel when he entered. He walked up the nave with his rather stiff, hurried stride and donned a cotta as usual before coming out of the sacristy to address us. But there was no address. Instead, he berated us for our misbehaviour and dismissed us from the chapel at once as unworthy of whatever he had to say. It was a measure of his stature in our eyes that we left, neither amused at this display of adult temperament nor relieved at the unforeseen extension of our lunch-break but humiliated by our failure to measure up to his expectations of us. This, I think, was part of his secret: he took us seriously and expected us to do the same.
Many Belvederians from that time will also recall the private interviews with Jack in his room and the talks he gave us at meetings of the BVM Sodality on Sunday mornings in 'number nine'. His sane intelligence, in the somewhat fusty atmosphere of the time, was a breath of fresh air. At the same time, he would out flank our timid 1950s radicalism by seeming to espouse views more daring than our own and then pointing out the fallacies which underpinned both.
The twinkle in his eye and the warmth of his smile belied Jack's somewhat austere appearance and the possible threat of his obviously sharp intelligence. For younger boys he was a some what remote figure - although, in First Year, we knew him as one of the gentlest priests for whom to serve Mass, especially at the learning stage, when you were apt to get things wrong. Not all those we served were similarly long-suffering!
It was typical of Jack Kelly that he should have broken the Belvederian's long silence on the subject of the school's élève terrible, James Joyce, firmly, shrewdly and authoritatively, with a long review of the just-published Letters in 1957, long before it was fashionable to breathe that name. He wrote of Joyce as possessing a Catholic mind that rejected superstition and thought it had rejected the faith'. I like to think that fewer Belvederians from Jack Kelly's time in the school may have fallen into that mistake because they were privileged to meet in him a rare union of sophisticated intelligence and genuine Christian spirituality.
There is much else to be said of Jack's work and talents, especially as related to communications: his years as film critic for The Furrow, his work in television, his interest in the philosophy of communications, happily culminating in the publication of his book on the subject not very long before his death. There was also his role in introducing the “Teams of Our Lady' to this country. Others can write more adequately than I of these activities and many more as well as of Jack's early life. For my own part, I doubt if I have conveyed the wealth of respect and affection Jack Kelly earned during his years as teacher and priest in Belvedere. I know how dismayed many of us felt at the news of his sudden death and how much we miss him.
Bruce Bradley SJ
◆ The Belvederian, Dublin, 1983
Obituary
Father Jack Kelly SJ
Fr John C Kelly SJ died suddenly but quietly last Autumn. I am not in a position to write a complete obituary, having known him for only part of his life - his years as spiritual father and teacher in Belvedere (1950–1962) and, to a lesser extent, his time as teacher of philosophy in Milltown Park (1968-1982), after his stint in University Hall, working with students and assisting with Studies (1962-1966), and his two years in Bergamo studying communications (1966-1968).
It is on the twelve years in Belvedere that I would like to concentrate. It was a significant part of his life, the decade or so after ordination, and an enduringly valuable part of his apostolic work. Not all of his contemporaries in the Jesuits realise how large was the influence of Jack Kelly in Belvedere during the fifties. Such influence was the more remarkable in view of the number of Jesuits in the community at the time. Most of them memorable and influential figures themselves. Even among these, Jack was special.
He was never, I think, a full-time teacher, TB limited his activities at first, Later, when Charlie Heron SJ died suddenly, Jack was drafted in to take his place, thus adding French classes to those he already had in English. Later, in Philosophy year, Jack introduced us to T S Eliot. Mirabile dictu: Eliot was not then deceased the statutory half century or so evidently required at that time for inclusion in the syllabus of the Department of Education - in fact he was still alive! In addition to teaching Jack helped Oliver O'Brien with the operas and plays in the early sixties and produced Shaw's You Never Can Tell in 1962. He was also a stylish and stimulating director of the Poetry Debating Society.
But the real source of his influence in Belvedere in those years was, I think, as spiritual father. In this capacity he occasionally addressed the whole school in the chapel at lunchtime. We looked forward to these homilies, not only because they were a welcome variation on the daily rosary, but also, and more importantly, because Jack was always interesting. Religion, as presented by him, never appeared antiquated or irrelevant.
There was one occasion when he thought we were making too much noise and disturbance in the chapel when he entered. He walked up the nave with his rather stiff hurried stride and donned a surplice as usual before coming out to address us. But there was no address. Instead, he berated us for our misbehaviour and dismissed us from the chapel at once as unworthy of what he had to say. It was a measure of his stature in our eyes that we left, neither amused by this display of adult temperament nor relieved at the unforseen extension of our lunch break, but humiliated by our failure to measure up to his expectations of us. This, I think, was part of his secret: he took us seriously and expected us to do the same.
Many Belvederians from that time will also recall the private interviews in his room and the talks he gave us at meetings of the BVM sodality on Sunday mornings in “number nine”. His sane intelligence, in the somewhat fusty atmosphere of the time, wasa breath of fresh air. At the same time he would outflank our timnid 1950s radicalism by seeming to espouse views more dating than our own and then pointing out the fallacies that underpinned both.
The twinkle in his eye and the warmth of his smile were a little at odds with Jack's rather austere appearance and his obviously sharp intelligence. For younger boys he was a somewhat remote figure, although, in First Year, we knew him as one of the gentlest priests for whom to serve Mass, especiallyin the learning stage when you were apt to get things wrong. Not all those we served were similarly long suffering!
It was typical of Jack Kelly that he should have broken the Belvederian's silence on the subject of the school's élève terrible, James Joyce, firmly, shrewdly and authoritatively, with a long review of the just published Letters in 1957, long before it was fashionable to breathe that name. He wrote of Joyce as possessing “a Catholic mind that rejected superstition and thought it had rejected the faith”, I like to think that fewer Belvederians from Jack Kelly's time in the school may have fallen into that mistake because they were privileged to meet in him a rare union of spphisticated intelligence and genuine Christian spirituality.
There is much else to be said of Jack's work and talents, especially as related to communications: his years as film critic for The Furrow, his work in television, his interest in the philosophy of communications, happily culminating in the publication of his book on the subject not very long before his death. There was also his role in introducing the “Teams of Our Lady” to this country. Others could write more adequately than I of these activities and many more, as well as of Jack's early life. For my own part, I doubt if I have conveyed the wealth of respect and affection Jack Kelly earned during his years as teacher and priest in Belvedere. I know how dismayed many of us felt at I the news of his sudden death and how much we miss him.
Bruce Bradley SJ