Gonzaga celebrate 75 years
This year marks the 75th anniversary of the founding of Gonzaga College, Dublin, and this month the College has been marking the occasion with a series of events.
A special Gala concert was held in the college chapel on Thursday, 3 April, with a variety of musical performances by current students, including a piano recital, a traditional music ensemble, and some choral singing.
On Saturday 5 April, the College celebrated the annual Green & White Ball. It was a grander event than usual on account of the anniversary, and it took place in the Round Room in the Mansion House.
On Wednesday 9 April, the College had a celebratory Mass concluding the celebrations, again in the College chapel. The Chief celebrant was Archbishop Luis Mariano Montemayor, the Papal Nuncio, who was making his first visit to the College. The Nuncio was joined on the altar by Fr Shane Daly, the Provincial, Fr Tom Casey, the College Chaplain, and Rev. Partick Corkery who did his Jesuit regency in the College and was ordained a deacon in the College Chapel by Archbishop Dermot Farrell on 2 March 2025. Archbishop Michael Jackson, Anglican Archbishop of Dublin was an honoured guest. They were joined by students, parents, past pupils, Jesuits, and former staff members to offer a Mass of Thanksgiving. Fr Tom Casey has written an account of his experience at the Mass below.
A Beautiful Moment in Time: What Mothers Saw at Gonzaga’s 75th Anniversary Mass.
There’s nothing like the quiet, compassionate noticing of those who truly know how to see, especially mothers.
After the Mass celebrating Gonzaga College SJ’s 75th anniversary on April 9th 2025, I found myself moved not only by the solemn beauty of the liturgy, but even more by what the mothers of our students shared with me afterwards. Their reflections stayed with me, like sacred echoes, revealing what the day truly meant, not just for them, but for all of us.
One mother recalled how, as the Mass began, sunlight streamed through the great stained-glass windows, painting the chapel in vivid blues and reds and welcoming everyone in as if heaven itself had just opened a door.
Another mother spoke of the joy of seeing her son sing in the choir. She, her husband, and her own mother, three generations linked by love, watched and listened with hushed hearts. In that moment, she felt the unseen presence of her son’s great-grandparents looking down on them. “It was a moment in time,” she said, “never to be forgotten.”
The same mother spoke of a whisper that moved through the chapel like a breeze through long grass on a quiet hill. It was a sacred whisper of love and togetherness. She heard it in the Papal Nuncio’s gentle words, reminding all present that in these uncertain days, love is the constant, and togetherness the way forward. Her son’s final Mass as a student was bittersweet. A chapter was closing, yes, but she felt held, encircled by a community that would endure.
The Papal Nuncio’s calm reverence touched many. One mother remarked how the presence of so many Jesuits stirred thoughts of Gonzaga’s roots, of a tradition long carried and still alive. Another mother held onto the word constancy, knowing that for decades, Mass has been celebrated in that same chapel, the same prayers offered, the same hope shared, each generation walking a shared path.
And the music – ah, the music! The boys sang not just with harmony, but with heart. Their mothers saw them not only as choristers, but as young men who are blossoming with the years. In their voices was joy, strength, and a hint of the men they are becoming. Whatever the road ahead, these mothers had witnessed something sacred take root and grow.
The chapel was full. But not just with people: with presence too. Voices, families, and memories converged in that sacred space. Yet there was also something more elusive: a sense of being part of something larger, older, and deeply woven. The Gonzaga “family” was gathered: priests, teachers, students past and present, parents, grandparents. It felt like many generations meeting beneath one roof. There was joy, yes, but even more, a deep, reflective gratitude for the bonds that quietly hold us together.
These women have walked with Gonzaga for years, through all the seasons of parenting: the triumphs, the tears, and the unfolding of their sons’ lives. Some now stand on the threshold of farewell, preparing to part from a place that shaped not only their children, but themselves. And what they spoke of most was gratitude: for a school that forms young men not only in mind, but in heart. For a community that, even in its imperfections, continues to reflect something of love’s enduring shape. As one mother quietly said, “We need connection – all of us.”
During the Mass, a mother found herself watching elderly past pupils sitting just ahead of her. She wondered how Gonzaga had shaped their lives, and then, like a stone skipping forward, how these years might shape the lives of her own sons.
It was in the words of all of these mothers that I saw new sacredness: not only in the Mass itself, but in the music, in the people there, and even in the simple act of gathering. Perhaps mothers are the first to see it, not because they look harder, but because they have spent years loving quietly. It’s the kind of love that moves softly and sees deeply.
Tom Casey SJ
