In Part I of this blog, I spoke briefly about a number of funeral customs which were woven into the fabric of Gaelic society in Scotland. These endured for hundreds of years and shared with their Irish cousins.

One of the aspects I find most intriguing was the role of ritual lamentation among the Gaels. Songs of lamentation have been present in most societies. They harken back to Homeric, Etruscan and biblical times and they were usually the domain of women. What is interesting to note, is that the art of improvised lamentation was highly developed in Ireland and Scotland.

A traditional lament can best be described as a long, impromptu, elegiac poem of sorrow. Lamentation in Gaelic is translated as caoineadh. This also mean crying or weeping. Caoineadh became known in English as keening. In recent years there has been a concerted effort to revive the tradition of the caoineadh. However, there is some confusion associated with the way in which this is playing out. The lamentation of the keening women was not only expressed through the gol, the unbridled wail of grief, but much more.

Mystic and scholar, John O’Donohue, explains it best:

“The keen was a high-pitched wailing cry full of incredible loneliness, The narrative of the caoineadh the lament, was actually the history of the person’s life as these women had known them; a sad liturgy, beautifully woven of narrative, was gradually put into the place of the person’s new absence from the world. The caoineadh gathered all the key events of the person’ life. It was certainly heartbreakingly lonely, but it made a hospitable ritual space for the mourning and sadness of the bereaved family. The caoineadh helped the emotion of loneliness and grief to flow in a natural way.”

In a podcast, Mary McLaughlin, singer, Irish scholar and tradition bearer, explains that there are three parts to the traditional keen or caoineadh. (The Rite of the Keening Woman with Mary McLaughlin – Seren Bertrand) She also goes on to explain her personal experience with the gol; the unearthly wailing cry of grief. In my mind, what happened to Mary is in the realm of the mystical and I believe she might agree. At a time when we are grieving the loss of so many of the crucially important traditions of our ancestors, Mary McLaughlin is blessing us, not only with her wisdom but also her experience and her songs.

The keening women played a vital role not only for the deceased and their family but for the entire community. Not only was it their responsibility to ensure that the deceased made it safely home to the Otherworld, but they were also instrumental in creating a space for the community to express their public sorrow. A kind of community catharsis would take place.

However, by the middle of the 17th century, there was a determined effort by religious authorities in both Ireland and Scotland to silence the voices of the keening women. Many turned a blind eye to those who did not understand the power of this tradition. By the 18th century the pressure to outlaw the keen intensified. In Ireland priests were instructed to:

“make every effort in their power to bring to an end the wailing and screams of female keeners who accompanied the dead to the graveyard.”
(O Suilleabhain 1976)

Since time immemorial the keening women supported countless communities faced with the desolation of grief. They had offered a wise and long-established tradition to guide others through the whirlpool of loss. By the close of the 19th century, the keening women in Gaelic Scotland were no more. You might have been able to find a handful of people who remembered fragments of the tradition, but the power and magnificence of ritual lamentation was gone.

It is with great sadness that I write these words. So much has been lost. What remains in our songs of lamentation is but an echo of what once was. However, the spirit and wisdom of our people may still be heard in these songs. For they are imbued with the power to bring solace and relief during times of unbearable loss.