The Baptists and the Mosque

I got talking to someone who lived in Cahirvaven at the time when the Baptist Church was being built there.  He said that the movement of the Baptists to the area caused a stir, including from the 'altar' of the local Catholic Church.  I asked him to clarify, 'did the priest want the people to object to our planning permission?'  He suggested that he did.  But the priest's real complaint was along the lines 'what has happened that these sort would move into our area?'  The shocking thing was that such an attitude existed as recently as 1993.

But it is not only Catholics who are guilty of such prejudice and a sense of religious/cultural entitlement.  I lived in County Armagh at a time when the Muslims were looking for planning permission for a Mosque in Portadown (2003).  Many Protestants objected to the idea of such a building being built.  The attitude was 'this is our country not theirs' and the more illogical of people said 'we wouldn't be allowed build our churches in their countries so why should they be allowed build theirs here' (an interesting twist on 'do onto others as you would have them do to you').

I gladly believe in the separation of church and state.  I hate the linking of religion with nationality.  I think that the gospel can thrive where there is true tolerance.  And I fear that our increasingly secular state is becoming increasingly intolerant of religious opinions just as a religious state was intolerant of all dissenters.

Two funny stories from Catholic Ireland

Dermot O'Mahoney is a church planter who attends our theological think-tank.  He told a funny story from a very different Ireland.

Many years ago people believed that priests had certain powers.  One of these superstitions was that priests could stick you to the ground.

Dermot's dad grew up at Saint Mary's Park in Limerick.  Apparently he was a bit of a character. 

One day a local priest approached them with his horse.  He asked the boys to hold the horse while he did something.

'Get a way out of that,' came the lads' reply.

'If you don't I'll stick you to the ground,' threatened the priest.

'Why don't you just stick the horse to the ground?' suggested Dermot's dad.

Another story.

My dad's father was a Methodist minister in Tralee.  One day he was walking along with his three sons and he was wearing his clerical collar.  Two women approached him.

'Morning, father,' greeted one of the women.

A few steps further the second woman corrected her.  'That's no father, sure doesn't he have three children of his own!'

Southern Irish Prods

'Do you believe in the Virgin Mary?' the kid asked as we played together at the back of the local school one evening.  He was conscious that my friends and I were Protestants.  He had questions to ask.  He was curious.

There was a sense of growing up as a community apart.  That was most obvious in the fact that we went to different schools.  I know perception is not always reality but I feel that what drew the Protestants together was not primarily what they were but what they weren't.  There was a common identity in not being Catholic.  After all, my Church of Ireland friends didn't seem particularly devoted to their faith.

Of course defining yourself by what you are not, rather than what you are, is a recipe for snobbery towards the 'other'.  It wasn't until I was a boarder in a school in Dublin that I really saw this attitude in action.  I don't think our year was typical.  Perhaps it was partly because a couple of the guys lived closer to the border that we were so conscious of being Protestants (or more precisely that we took pride in not being Catholics). 

One of these boys was annoyed with a priest who was refereeing his rugby match in Blackrock College and protested towards this official after the game.  'You are a disgrace to your religion', he said.  This guy knew which tribe he came from.

I remember a boy from Cork joining our dormitory in second year.  He was upset by this anti-Catholic banter.  I assured him it was only banter.  But, rightly, he did not like it.  Thankfully as the years progressed things changed, particularly when a strong character, who happened to be Catholic, joined us in fifth year.

So it is with embarrassment that I think back to us all standing as 'God save the Queen' was being played on the TV before a sporting event (I know that we were laughing and it was something of a joke).  It is with confusion that I look back on a talk given by one of the (Catholic) rugby coaches who told us (with a smile) to go and beat the 'Catholic' opposition.  But it is with anger that I look back on a Protestant culture that told its sons that they would not inherit the farm if they married a Catholic.  I hope such attitudes are long behind us!

Catholicism in Ireland (Part 3)

Just some final reflections from having read the Irish Times series on the Catholic Church in Ireland.

An Irish Times/Ipsos MRBI poll found that just 26% of Irish Catholics believed that bread and wine were transformed into the body and blood of Christ at consecration in the Mass.  Commenting on this poll, fundamentalist atheist Richard Dawkins suggested that, "If they don't believe in transubstantiation then they are not Roman Catholics ... If they are honest they should say that they are no longer Roman Catholics."  He suggested that this survey "should come in for a fair degree of ridicule ... I wouldn't hold back on the ridicule."

Commenting on the 1932 Eucharistic Congress, Fr. Tom O'Connor explains that, "In '32, it was very much a national celebration as well as an occasion for the church.  We were 11 years into independence and there was a whole triumphant aspect that does not appeal to people any more."  Interestingly, loyalists in Belfast, Lurgan, Portadwon and Lisburn showed a spirit of kindness (NOT!) as they attacked buses and trains carrying people to Eucharist celebrations in '32.

The average age of a priest in Ireland is 64, although the retirement age is 75.  Last year just six men were ordained to the priesthood in Ireland. 

Catholicism in Ireland (part 2)

Before we moved to Limerick we looked at some houses with the thought of buying.  One of the things that struck us was that the evidence of Catholicism could still be seen.  In a couple of the homes we viewed there were such things as holders for holy water.  Then there was another phenomenon.  In at least one house there was no remnants of Catholicism but there was a picture to do with angels (it is notable that this was the home of a young family).  Just look through the bookstores and you will see the massive interest there is in angels.

Last week the Irish Times did a week long report on Catholicism in Ireland.  It was fascinating reading. 

Perhaps I have become so accustomed to hearing about the decline in Catholicism in Ireland that I was not surprised to hear that only 34% of Catholics in the Republic of Ireland attend mass at least once a week.  I actually thought that figure was quite high.  After all, a further 8% attend at least once a fortnight and a further 11% attend more than once a month.  That means that 52% of those claiming to be Catholic in Ireland should have been at mass in the last month.  However, the figures are a bit grim for Dublin and with regards to the young.  Only 13% of Catholics aged 18-24 attend mass at least once a week.

Nearly 2/3s of over 65s attend mass once a week; urban catholics are only half as likely as rural catholics to go to mass; and the most likely to go to mass at least once a week are working class women who are over 65 from the Connacht/Ulster area and vote Fianna Fail. 

But what do Catholics believe?  Well, 8% of those Catholics who were surveyed said that they didn't believe in God (which makes a mockery of calling yourself a Catholic).  Only 44% of Catholics over 65 (the most devote group) said that they believed in transubstantiation, and only 18% of those in the 25-34 age group do.  While 83% of those questioned believe there is a heaven only a half believe there is a hell.  87% of those claiming to be Catholics believe that priests should be allowed marry.  I also learned that the idea of a-la-carte Catholicism is also referred to a 'canteen' Catholicism.

But what about the young eleven year old, who had just been confirmed, and spoke about his faith in the Saturday (2nd June) issue.  He said

I believe in guardian angels and that they are looking out for us.  I have one.  He's a boy because I am a boy.  He has wings and he'd be very small.  He's sitting on my shoulder now.

Does such Catholicism reflect the old or the new and is it as much new-age as Christian?

Catholicism in Ireland (Part 1)

Micheal asked, 'Can you imagine Enda Kenny publicly kissing Archbishop Martin's ring?'  He recalls seeing, as a young catholic, Dev kissing Archbishop McQuaid's ring.  How things have changed?  Micheal in now a member of an independent evangelical church and attends a study group with me.

We were discussing Ingrid Harley's book on spirituality in contemporary Ireland.  I was chairing the meeting which focused around her chapter on the demise of Catholicism.  I posed the question, 'when do you think Catholicism was at its peak in Ireland?'

'Without doubt, the visit of Pope John Paul II in 1979,' suggested a younger member.  I disagreed (sorry Elton, but I do think that your insights in today's discussion were very helpful).  Ingrid cites someone who says that the peak in the relationship between catholic church and the Irish state was 1937-1960.  1937 is the date of Dev's constitution, with its special place for the Catholic church.  But what went wrong after 1960?  We came up with a number of suggestions.

An American member of the group wanted to take the discussion all the way back to the reformation.  But we were focusing on the special place that the catholic church had in the Irish state, thus we were limiting ourselves to post-1922.  He suggested the influence of the World Wars.  But it was countered that World War II actually served to illustrate how inward-looking the young Irish state was.

One key date is 1958 and the White paper that was issued by economist T. K. Whitaker.  This marked a change in economic policy.  No longer was Ireland seeking to be a closed state but now wanted to be a small open economy.  Later Ireland would join the EEC.

Another key date is 1962 and the events of Vatican II.  While it was clear that the catholic church in Ireland was unable to handle some of the challenges of Vatican II I am still uncertain how this fits into the wider demise.

As the conversation resumed in today's meeting we thought of the effect of the charismatic renewal.  This began in 1969.  It was open to outside influences, although 1975 was the last time they had a non-Catholic, David Watson, address their main conference.  This movement was never embraced by the catholic hierarchy.

In the 1960s the outside world began exerting increased influence on the nation's views.  There was the accessibility of foreign media and the advent of television.  As I watched the 50th anniversary edition of the Late Late Show on Friday night I wondered how conservative Catholics would have felt in knowing that there licence fee was going towards Gaybo spouting his opinions (I later read an article that suggested that Gaybo didn't so much shape opinion as reflect the public mood, I think he did a mixture of both).  Of course the sexual revolution of the 1960s didn't entirely pass Ireland by.

In The Transformation of Ireland, 1900-2000 historian Diarmaid Ferriter points to the issue of family planning.  I have a person interest in this as my father set up a family planning clinic in Cork at a time when that drew fire from the catholic hierarchy.  Ferriter points out that here was an issue where the public chose to ignore the teaching they were receiving from the church.  Was this the start of a la carte Catholicism in Ireland?

Of course there were factors that post-date 1979.  The sexual scandals may have accelerated the decline, but they did not begin it.  Notable dates are the X-case in 1992 and the Murphy report in 2009.

The Pope's visit in 1979 remains a strange phenomenon.  I remember been surprised that a Church of Ireland neighbour went to see him, she went simply because he was one of the most important people in the world.  He warmed the nation's heart as he kissed the tarmac on arriving (nothing wins us more than being shown how special a little nation we are).  At Drogheda he pleaded 'on my knees' (without actually getting on his knees) for the men and women of violence to stop their killing in the north.   Then there are the ironic pictures of Bishop Casey and Father Clancy leading the youth rally in Galway (both men tool the title 'father' in its literal sense).  Was it all just the last hurrah of a fatally wounded institution?  If so, what do we call the response to the visit of the bones of Saint Teresa (2001) and what can we expect at the forthcoming Eucharistic Congress?