Week ending 24th April 2012
I was somewhat sceptical of the Association of Catholic Priests when it was first formed. I had seen too many false dawns for church and clergy in my fortyone years as a priest. While welcoming the Association in this column, I expressed the fear that it might become a kind of ‘elitist clericalism’ given the high profile of some of its founders. In so far as I can I have shied away from as many forms of clerical ‘groupies’ as possible in recent years, given that clericalist culture has been blemed for allowing the situation in which clerical child sex abuse had gone unchallenged to a great extent for half a century or more.
The Association of Catholic Priests has been surefooted in its approach in so far as can be judged. It gained much credibility among clergy because of its support for Father Kevin Reynolds who was so badly libelled by RTÉ. Previous anti-clerical slurs on that station, such as Tommy Tiernan’s ‘s****e’ comment about priests on the Late Late Show had been allowed go unquestioned by both Catholic hierarchy and priest leaders. This was not surprising given low morale at the time because of the child-sex revelations, but it led to even lower morale among clergy, as well as the apparent feeling in national media circles that the church was on the run and that commentators could get away with anything. While the Broadcasting Complaints’ Commission did express concern about the Late Late Show on a number of occasions, there seemed to be no no repercussions for producers or presenters. They gladly accepted the ‘yellow card’ for the team, so long as they had managed to get the boot in.
The recent Amarach survey commissioned by the Association of Catholic Priests is another surefooted step forward in that it gives credibility to what many people have sensed for a long time about Roman Catholic attitudes, in the area of sexuality in particular. In practice people have rejected the official church line on contraception for almost half a century in the same way as they have rejected the previous practice of frequent confession. They just ignored what was apparently silly and got on with their lives without rejecting the fundamentals of their faith, belief in God, in Jesus as saviour, in the Holy Spirit, the spiritual comfort provided by Mary and the saints of their choice. Some denigrate this as ‘a la carte’ Catholicism. I see it as a mature following of Jesus, the ‘a la carte’ Jew who questioned the excesses and unecessary emphasis on certain rules and regulations by leaders of his own faith.
At this stage some are beginning to look on the Association of Catholic Priests as ‘the real Catholic Hierarchy,’ a group of leaders who are prepared to deal with the reality that a vast majority of Catholics would be happy to have women priests or married priests. The Association is not, of course, a political opposition proposing one thing when outside power and doing the opposite when it gets in. The Association will not be ‘getting in’ but the findings of their survey in fact strengthen the hands of the bishops in their dealings with Rome. Armed with this or an even more comprehensive survey the hierarchy would be in a strong position to point out that most people are not rejecting the fundamentals of their faith, but suggesting ways in which it might be made to work much better than at present.
The Association of Catholic Priests has been surefooted in its approach in so far as can be judged. It gained much credibility among clergy because of its support for Father Kevin Reynolds who was so badly libelled by RTÉ. Previous anti-clerical slurs on that station, such as Tommy Tiernan’s ‘s****e’ comment about priests on the Late Late Show had been allowed go unquestioned by both Catholic hierarchy and priest leaders. This was not surprising given low morale at the time because of the child-sex revelations, but it led to even lower morale among clergy, as well as the apparent feeling in national media circles that the church was on the run and that commentators could get away with anything. While the Broadcasting Complaints’ Commission did express concern about the Late Late Show on a number of occasions, there seemed to be no no repercussions for producers or presenters. They gladly accepted the ‘yellow card’ for the team, so long as they had managed to get the boot in.
The recent Amarach survey commissioned by the Association of Catholic Priests is another surefooted step forward in that it gives credibility to what many people have sensed for a long time about Roman Catholic attitudes, in the area of sexuality in particular. In practice people have rejected the official church line on contraception for almost half a century in the same way as they have rejected the previous practice of frequent confession. They just ignored what was apparently silly and got on with their lives without rejecting the fundamentals of their faith, belief in God, in Jesus as saviour, in the Holy Spirit, the spiritual comfort provided by Mary and the saints of their choice. Some denigrate this as ‘a la carte’ Catholicism. I see it as a mature following of Jesus, the ‘a la carte’ Jew who questioned the excesses and unecessary emphasis on certain rules and regulations by leaders of his own faith.
At this stage some are beginning to look on the Association of Catholic Priests as ‘the real Catholic Hierarchy,’ a group of leaders who are prepared to deal with the reality that a vast majority of Catholics would be happy to have women priests or married priests. The Association is not, of course, a political opposition proposing one thing when outside power and doing the opposite when it gets in. The Association will not be ‘getting in’ but the findings of their survey in fact strengthen the hands of the bishops in their dealings with Rome. Armed with this or an even more comprehensive survey the hierarchy would be in a strong position to point out that most people are not rejecting the fundamentals of their faith, but suggesting ways in which it might be made to work much better than at present.
Week ending 17th April 2012
Confirmation comes to Carna parish this week, with the ceremony in Cill Chiaráin (Kilkerrin) church on Thursday when forty-four children from five schools come ‘under the hand of the bishop’ as the sacrament is referred to in the Gaeltacht – ‘ag dul faoi lamh Easpaig.’ This refers to the laying on of hands to call down the Holy Spirit, in a practice as old as the church itself. In days of old many children approached confirmation with a certain amount of fear and trembling, especially if they were to be quizzed about their knowledge of the cathecism and of their faith by the bishop himself.
Whatever fear and trembling the children felt was nothing to what was felt by many priests judging by the stories that have come down to us and often repeated at post-confirmation dinners. Confirmation was seen as a visitation of the parish, and the clergy felt they were under the hammer of the bishop’s crozier. There are stories of Parish Priests taking to their beds and not reappearing from their sudden onset of ‘flu’ until the bishop had vacated their parish. One famous man was reported to have begun his sermon the following Sunday with the words: “I hear ye had the buck the last day.” Now that the ‘buck’ had passed he was able to face the world and be his own swashbucking self again
There is a story told of Archbishop John Healy of Tuam using an interpreter in a Gaeltacht parish in order to question the children about their faith. A Sligo man who had been a Professor in Maynooth, Dr. Healy was less fluent in the Irish language than many of those who came before and after him. Father Geoffrey Prendergast, Parish Priest of Claremorris was his interpreter. Everything was going fine until a tall young man who had slipped through the net of previous confirmations was brought before him. The Archbishop decided to start with an easy question: “Ask him who is the Pope,” he said to Fr. Geoffrey, which he did: “Cé hé an Phápa?”
The young man had a good look around and decided that the Archbishop, a big man in his imposing purple vestments was the most important person around. “Níl a fhios agam, munab é an boc mór sin thall é” he answered, pointing to Archbishop Healy. (“I don’t know, unless it is that big buck over there.”) “Is he right?” Dr Healy asked Fr. Prendergast. “He is,” came the reply. A hundred years later both that young man and Archbishop John Healy have long gone to their rewards, but the story of their short confirmation engagement is oft repeated.
I don’t expect any earth shattering or history making stories to emerge from this week’s confirmation, just that it will go well for everyone involved. I’m sure the ceremony itself is not a pressure on Archbishop Michael Neary who has done it many times. Photographs with forty-four families and many more in bigger parishes must take their toll, but he goes about it with dignity and generosity, knowing how important his presence there is to each young person and their family. My own little Hamlet-like dilemma as I face the cameras is: “To shave or not to shave, that is the question.”
Whatever fear and trembling the children felt was nothing to what was felt by many priests judging by the stories that have come down to us and often repeated at post-confirmation dinners. Confirmation was seen as a visitation of the parish, and the clergy felt they were under the hammer of the bishop’s crozier. There are stories of Parish Priests taking to their beds and not reappearing from their sudden onset of ‘flu’ until the bishop had vacated their parish. One famous man was reported to have begun his sermon the following Sunday with the words: “I hear ye had the buck the last day.” Now that the ‘buck’ had passed he was able to face the world and be his own swashbucking self again
There is a story told of Archbishop John Healy of Tuam using an interpreter in a Gaeltacht parish in order to question the children about their faith. A Sligo man who had been a Professor in Maynooth, Dr. Healy was less fluent in the Irish language than many of those who came before and after him. Father Geoffrey Prendergast, Parish Priest of Claremorris was his interpreter. Everything was going fine until a tall young man who had slipped through the net of previous confirmations was brought before him. The Archbishop decided to start with an easy question: “Ask him who is the Pope,” he said to Fr. Geoffrey, which he did: “Cé hé an Phápa?”
The young man had a good look around and decided that the Archbishop, a big man in his imposing purple vestments was the most important person around. “Níl a fhios agam, munab é an boc mór sin thall é” he answered, pointing to Archbishop Healy. (“I don’t know, unless it is that big buck over there.”) “Is he right?” Dr Healy asked Fr. Prendergast. “He is,” came the reply. A hundred years later both that young man and Archbishop John Healy have long gone to their rewards, but the story of their short confirmation engagement is oft repeated.
I don’t expect any earth shattering or history making stories to emerge from this week’s confirmation, just that it will go well for everyone involved. I’m sure the ceremony itself is not a pressure on Archbishop Michael Neary who has done it many times. Photographs with forty-four families and many more in bigger parishes must take their toll, but he goes about it with dignity and generosity, knowing how important his presence there is to each young person and their family. My own little Hamlet-like dilemma as I face the cameras is: “To shave or not to shave, that is the question.”
Week ending 10th April 2012
The words: “He is risen.” have raised many hearts and not a few spirits in the past two thousand years. Throw in a few “Alleluias” and the joys of Easter resurrection can be celebrated with gusto. We toss around the word “unbelievable” nowadays to describe anything vaguely surprising. The idea of someone rising from the dead is very close to really being unbelievable, yet billions of people in recent days celebrated the resurrection of Jesus Christ in most parts of the world. Even people with little attachment to formal religion tend to be touched in some way by the enduring magic of the Easter story. It has none of the glitz or glamour of Christmas and is all the better for that. The echo of nail on hammer still rings in the air as we come to wonder as the disciples of Jesus did: “can this be real?”
Magic may not be the right word but it is not the wrong word either. A story which has a young man being hung out to dry on a cross on a Friday flitting around like a butterfly just escaped from its cocoon on the following Sunday has a quality of the Houdinis about it, only better. It is quite a leap from the ridiculed to the sublime in a matter of days. Not easy to believe but not too difficult either when we take into account the person involved. For followers of Jesus it has a logic of its own. How could you keep a good man down? It was not just the rock at the mouth of the tomb that was blown away that Sunday morning. We all were.
Belief in the resurrection of Jesus is a matter of faith, but it is not without evidence that could stand up in court or in some kind of tribunal of inquiry. There is the matter of the empty tomb. “Who moved the stone?” was the title of a book on this subject that I read many years ago. A good barrister would suggest that anyone might have removed it. It might have been even an earthquake. As for the angels reported to have been seen inside, he or she (the Attorney) would probably decide to “rest my case” and leave it to the jury to decide on that one.
Then there are those lovely stories which are read in churches on the Sundays after Easter, stories of doubting Thomas and of the two disciples on the way to Emmaus, not to speak of the one about Jesus having a fish barbecue prepared on the shore when his followere returned from a fishing trip. Proof of a kind, but there is more proof of the possibilities invoved in the differences between the glory of the resurrection body and the earthed bodies we inhabit in this life, bogged down as we are by the weight of the world and the confinements of space and time. The stories told in the afterglow of Easter give a gentle nudge to the imaginitive who wonder about after-life and its possibilities.
The nearest we have to proof of the resurrection of Jesus is the change that came over his followers between Good Friday and Pentecost Sunday. Something happened that changed the craven cowards of Calvary and the confident preachers of Pentecost, who showed that they were willing not to just live but also to die for their faith, something most of them did. This was in some ways the real resurrection, the one that changed cowards into champions of a faith, faith forged in brokeness and betrayal, fear and trembling. Jesus is just un-put-down-able. He is risen. Alleluia.
Magic may not be the right word but it is not the wrong word either. A story which has a young man being hung out to dry on a cross on a Friday flitting around like a butterfly just escaped from its cocoon on the following Sunday has a quality of the Houdinis about it, only better. It is quite a leap from the ridiculed to the sublime in a matter of days. Not easy to believe but not too difficult either when we take into account the person involved. For followers of Jesus it has a logic of its own. How could you keep a good man down? It was not just the rock at the mouth of the tomb that was blown away that Sunday morning. We all were.
Belief in the resurrection of Jesus is a matter of faith, but it is not without evidence that could stand up in court or in some kind of tribunal of inquiry. There is the matter of the empty tomb. “Who moved the stone?” was the title of a book on this subject that I read many years ago. A good barrister would suggest that anyone might have removed it. It might have been even an earthquake. As for the angels reported to have been seen inside, he or she (the Attorney) would probably decide to “rest my case” and leave it to the jury to decide on that one.
Then there are those lovely stories which are read in churches on the Sundays after Easter, stories of doubting Thomas and of the two disciples on the way to Emmaus, not to speak of the one about Jesus having a fish barbecue prepared on the shore when his followere returned from a fishing trip. Proof of a kind, but there is more proof of the possibilities invoved in the differences between the glory of the resurrection body and the earthed bodies we inhabit in this life, bogged down as we are by the weight of the world and the confinements of space and time. The stories told in the afterglow of Easter give a gentle nudge to the imaginitive who wonder about after-life and its possibilities.
The nearest we have to proof of the resurrection of Jesus is the change that came over his followers between Good Friday and Pentecost Sunday. Something happened that changed the craven cowards of Calvary and the confident preachers of Pentecost, who showed that they were willing not to just live but also to die for their faith, something most of them did. This was in some ways the real resurrection, the one that changed cowards into champions of a faith, faith forged in brokeness and betrayal, fear and trembling. Jesus is just un-put-down-able. He is risen. Alleluia.
Week ending 3rd April 2012
“How are we going to tame this Jesus of Nazareth?” That question was a hot topic in the Jerusalem of nineteen hundred and eighty years ago, give or take a year or two. The young rabbi was becoming a bit of a liability to the authorities of religion and of state. He was stirring things up too much. Asking questions. Like a one-man bloody tribunal. The Roman authorities could sense the danger of him fomenting some kind of an uprising, a Jewish Spring in the manner of last year’s Arab Spring. At the same time their underground observers were reporting back that he didn’t seem political or revolutionary in that sense. He was a bigger danger to the authorities of his own religion. Claiming to be a son of God. The Romans could live with that. He wouldn’t be the first ‘crazy’ they had to deal with. They would tolerate him as long as he didn’t rock Caesar’s boat…
“How are we going to tame this Jesus of Nazareth?” There was a faint echo of that question in the report of the Vatican visitation of the Irish Catholic church to investigate the child sexual abuse scandals as well as certain matters of faith and of church organisation. The emphasis on training of priest’s in a traditional and orthodox way begged the question about whether that old orthodox way did not play a big part in creating the sexual abuse scandals in the first place. The uniformity of practice by which priests were trained throughout the world led to similar problems in many countries. Do we need more of the same? Many would argue that it had a lot to do with the creation of an emotionally immature clericalist class of which I am a signed up member. I do not think that trying to put the clergy of the future into strait and narrow jackets will be any more effective than nailing Jesus to the cross was in that Holy Week we commemorate and re-enact between now and Easter.
I have mentioned in the past that the revival of the Easter ceremonies in their present form in the mid-fiffties was one of the best things done by the Roman Catholic church in the last century. They have been remarkably well attended since. Two year’s ago I felt that there was a particularly strong turnout at a time the church was reeling from the effects of the Ryan and Murphy reports. This was repeated last year despite the Cloyne report hanging over the church’s head like the sword of Damocles. It seemed as if what children had suffered at the hands of some priests and religious was being linked to the passion of Christ. It was also as if people were showing that their faith in Jesus, whatever about the church, was not destroyed by the scandals. The kissing of the cross on Good Friday seemed to have been done with a special fervour..
I always enjoy Easter but none more so than when it is all over. There is always an underlying fear that I will make a mess of things in that readings and prayers are unfamiliar as a year has past since last dealing with them. The nerves leave when I remind myself that it is not about me. Whatever I do, or however I mess up will not prevent Jesus from rising from the dead. What I like best about it is that even though we know the story will have a happy ending, many of us still get caught up in the emotion of it all, a good person wrongly convicted and put to death after a night of needless and senseless torture and violence. Worse things have happened in the world, of course, but the idea of the one who links us closest to God ending up like that makes Good Friday one of the saddest days for believers. It also makes Easter Day one of the best.
“How are we going to tame this Jesus of Nazareth?” There was a faint echo of that question in the report of the Vatican visitation of the Irish Catholic church to investigate the child sexual abuse scandals as well as certain matters of faith and of church organisation. The emphasis on training of priest’s in a traditional and orthodox way begged the question about whether that old orthodox way did not play a big part in creating the sexual abuse scandals in the first place. The uniformity of practice by which priests were trained throughout the world led to similar problems in many countries. Do we need more of the same? Many would argue that it had a lot to do with the creation of an emotionally immature clericalist class of which I am a signed up member. I do not think that trying to put the clergy of the future into strait and narrow jackets will be any more effective than nailing Jesus to the cross was in that Holy Week we commemorate and re-enact between now and Easter.
I have mentioned in the past that the revival of the Easter ceremonies in their present form in the mid-fiffties was one of the best things done by the Roman Catholic church in the last century. They have been remarkably well attended since. Two year’s ago I felt that there was a particularly strong turnout at a time the church was reeling from the effects of the Ryan and Murphy reports. This was repeated last year despite the Cloyne report hanging over the church’s head like the sword of Damocles. It seemed as if what children had suffered at the hands of some priests and religious was being linked to the passion of Christ. It was also as if people were showing that their faith in Jesus, whatever about the church, was not destroyed by the scandals. The kissing of the cross on Good Friday seemed to have been done with a special fervour..
I always enjoy Easter but none more so than when it is all over. There is always an underlying fear that I will make a mess of things in that readings and prayers are unfamiliar as a year has past since last dealing with them. The nerves leave when I remind myself that it is not about me. Whatever I do, or however I mess up will not prevent Jesus from rising from the dead. What I like best about it is that even though we know the story will have a happy ending, many of us still get caught up in the emotion of it all, a good person wrongly convicted and put to death after a night of needless and senseless torture and violence. Worse things have happened in the world, of course, but the idea of the one who links us closest to God ending up like that makes Good Friday one of the saddest days for believers. It also makes Easter Day one of the best.