EDI TO R I A L UP FRONT GERARD MOLONEY CSsR
The way forward
It's
an analogy I've used before. In 1977, a series of celebrated interviews took place between ex-US President Richard Nixon and journalist David Frost. These were the first interviews Nixon had given since the Watergate scandal had forced him from office in 1974, and Frost was determined to get him to apologise to the American people for what happened. On April 22, 1977, Frost finally pinned Nixon down and extracted the apologia in a famous exchange. "I gave 'em a sword," Nixon confessed. "And they stuck it in, and they twisted it with relish. And I guess if I had been in their position, I'd have done the same thing." The ''em' Nixon was referring to were his political and media opponents. He admitted that he had brought himself down because he had given his enemies the ammunition they were looking for. Reflecting on the bad press the Catholic Church in Ireland has received in recent years, there is no doubt the church has brought most of its troubles on itself too. Like Nixon, it has given its critics lots of ammunition. Like Nixon, you could say the church gave 'em a sword and they stuck it in, and they twisted it with relish. And who could blame them? One of this year's best-selling Irish books has been We Don't Know Ourselves, by Fintan O'Toole. It is a very personal account of Irish history from the year of O'Toole's birth, 1958, up to the present. Author and Irish Times' columnist, O'Toole is commonly regarded as Ireland's leading public intellectual, whose opinions matter. In the book, he chronicles the remarkable transformation that has taken place in Ireland during those decades. He maps out the disintegration of the old alliance of Catholic church and state that had been dominant for so long and describes the child abuse that existed at every level of the state and educational system and the punishment of women as sexual beings. It's a story of how the country has moved from backwardness to modernity, from darkness to light, how Ireland has finally, slowly, come of age.
Unsurprisingly, the Catholic Church does not emerge with credit from this analysis and O'Toole's anger is understandable. As its power and influence have collapsed in the last 25 years, what has been most striking is the level of anger directed at the church. Many people haven't just casually or carelessly lost their religion; they have consciously and deliberately tossed it aside. The litany of church-related scandals is an obvious reason for this anger. But it goes much deeper than that. It's rooted in the close relationship that had existed for so long between priests and people. The church was at the apex of Irish life, a refuge and strength during the difficult times of landlordism and British rule, a trusted ally and friend of the person in the pew. So the revelations of sexual and other forms of abuse were felt by people as a personal betrayal; the wound more raw, more deeply felt, than in countries where the church had not been so dominant. People's trust was betrayed; their loyalty abused. It's easy to see why they would walk away with scarcely a backwards glance. Many of those who have walked away are too young to have personal experience of the dominant, arrogant church of yesteryear, but Irish people have a residual collective memory of the church's role in post-independence Ireland and are reacting viscerally against it. Authoritarianism, clericalism, vanity, intolerance, pietism, and pride have been the toxic mix that has so damaged the church in Ireland and elsewhere. During his presidency, Nixon had made many enemies, and Watergate gave them the opportunity they were looking for. The Catholic Church in Ireland made many enemies over the years too – not just those who suffered abuse, but those who were put off by its preening arrogance and unfettered power. In the eyes of many, as O'Toole describes, the church seemed more like a suffocating oppressor than an agent of liberation or a force for good. Now it's payback time. It is hard to blame people for sticking in the sword and twisting it with relish.
It's also hard to see how the Irish church can even begin to repair the damage done. Its only hope is to follow the synodal path being set out by Pope Francis. The future lies not in being a self-reverential, topdown club for celibate males that systematically discriminates against women but in an upsidedown church with structures that enable the sensus fidei (the sense of the faithful) to be heard, irrespective of gender, role or rank. It lies not in arrogance, power, or the paraphernalia of office but humility, simplicity and service; a church of the street, not the palace. It lies not in legalism and moral rigidity but mercy and understanding. Pope Francis' famous "Who am I to judge?" comment on homosexuality made headlines because it indicated a more compassionate approach to moral questions. Only when it's seen as slow to condemn and ready to stand in the other person's shoes will the church begin to regain any moral authority. It lies not in presenting as a defensive, angry church preaching a message of fear but as a welcoming, joy-filled body of believers proclaiming a message of love. More grace and less lace aren't going to pack the pews or stock the seminaries. Those days will never return. But following the path of humility and inclusiveness will at least give the church new credibility and begin to show it as a prophetic presence rather than a perceived obstacle to progress. All of us at Redemptorist Communications and Reality wish you every blessing this coming Christmas.
Gerard Moloney CSsR Acting Editor
11
