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ME AND MY GOD
ME & MY GOD In this series, contributors reflect on their understanding of God and how it has evolved.
MY KNOWLEDGE OF GOD HAS BUT SCRATCHED THE SURFACE
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BY PATRICK COURTNEY
In rural Ireland of the 1940s, there was just one rule to follow. Sunday Mass, weekly confession and deference to teachers and clergy, especially the latter. Parents lived in fear of God and indirectly passed that fear on. My earliest memories are of the stained glass windows in our local church. One in particular haunted me. It looked to me like the image of a very stern Jesus.
Later, I was exposed to the Redemptorists, Passionists and Franciscans in the annual parish mission. I was the chosen altar boy to be present at every session, male and female. I could perceive the missioners' anger, yet was too young to really know what was being said. They did make an impression in the wrong way. They instilled an unwanted fear into a sensitive being. God had a ledger. Everything was written down. God was stern, strict and somewhat unforgiving. The word 'love' didn't enter the equation. We had to do everything to avoid hell, and sexual sins were high on God's don't do list.
Confessions were dreaded, especially when the PP roared out at what you did or didn't do. Anything remotely sexual, be it thought or action, raised his blood pressure. I can look back now and see its utter stupidity. As the years went by, this fear of hell took on an even greater grip. Domestic circumstances and the dread of going to the local Christian Brothers school pointed me to look elsewhere. Was I called by God? Did I have a vocation?
INTO AFRICA
I joined the Society of African Missions in 1958. With all the propaganda leaflets pouring into primary schools, I have no idea why I chose them. With hindsight, I made the right choice. Africa was my great learning curve. Six years of theology did not offer proper preparation for work abroad. Nothing was ever questioned. It was in Africa that I began to question.
I was not involved in pastoral work. I was a science teacher, and I loved it. However, at weekends, I helped out in the local parish. Celebrating Mass with three interpreters was a bit too much for me. I began to see a different God from that of my youth. I gradually became a free spirit. I ignored canon law. Avoidance of hell was no longer my motive for priesthood. I knew these local people had a belief in a deity long before Christianity arrived.
I lived in a small rural town for over a year, the first European to live there. In the rainy season, I was cut off for months. My only companion was my pagan cook. We often sat on the veranda in the dry season, shared a drink and looked up at the stars. I thought of Juno and the Peacock. I asked my cook what are the stars. Without hesitation, he replied, "Fadda, they are my ancestors." He wasn't a philosopher, yet there was a grain of truth in what he said. We are all made from the dust of stars.
I never liked how missionaries ignored local customs, traditions and rituals. My notion of God was expanding. I buried the medieval teaching that outside the church, there is no salvation. I devoured de Chardin's writings. I ended up with more questions than answers.
NO CHANGE AT HOME
I worked in Nigeria for about 14 years. For a number of reasons, I left the priesthood and married in 1980. I was teaching in London. The chair of governors (a priest) found out. He gave me 24 hours to get out. That single action angered me. I concluded that all these legal trappings had little to do with the God that was evolving in my mind. I refused to sign papers. I refused laicisation. I worked in London until 2007.
It was only when I returned to Ireland that the God issue raised its head again. I had been away for years. I witnessed many changes, yet I was shocked that so many Catholics had the same notion of God as I had in my youth. My wife and I did radio
broadcasts, and we had a 30-minute slot every week. Unfortunately, there was no feedback. We chose Gospel stories and expanded them in a Lectio Divina style. The broadcast station was ecumenical. Catholic members on the committee didn't like what they heard. We were told to adhere to the magisterium. We made 50 broadcasts but left as we could not agree to outside censorship.
I never saw myself as one who writes. I just wrote down ideas and expanded them. I read widely, thought deeply, and gradually concluded that we haven't a clue as to who God is. A far cry from my youth. Certain incidents strengthened my conviction. An erstwhile evangelical friend informed me there were no Muslims in heaven. Moreover, there were no Jews either unless they were messianic. Needless to say, I walked away.
HERESIES
I live in a very rural parish. Things are done as before. No need for blow-ins to tell us how to be Christian. Their belief in God and Jesus is frightening. Here are some examples: "Baby Jesus was a wee Catholic." "Adam and Eve really existed." "Protestants are living in sin and are hell-bound." "God is a Christian." "God is white." "Hell exists for those who are not baptised."
Where does one begin to change these heresies? The more I pray and meditate, the more I feel so distant from them. There is no room for dialogue. At this juncture, I need to express my present understanding of God. Quite often, I use a mathematical equation, as follows:
Who God is = Who is God? Both of these statements appear to express an equal equation, but they do not. There are four elements on the right-hand side, but only three on the left. So many Christians are on the left-hand side. They seem to know the mind of God.
Moreover, they are so certain of this that they enforce it on others. They put God in a box and are convinced that God thinks as they do. They don't understand that beautiful statement from Isaiah: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor my ways your ways."
ASK QUESTIONS
I, like many others, am on the right-hand side of this equation. We ask questions. We think,
analyse, explore and do not take so-called sacred doctrines for granted. To do so is to challenge a most powerful organisation. I will never know the mind of God. God is simple in God's complexity and complex in God's simplicity. Our knowledge of God has but scratched the surface.
I will now live and die, knowing that God is one Being of intense love for all, be they the wheel turners in Nepal, the Muslim on his Friday mat, the Hindu who bathes in the Ganges, the so-called perfidious Jew who celebrates the Pesach, the innocent tribal pagan who knows more about nature than we do. I have come a long way from the frightening icon of my youth. I sense God's presence.
