In searching for progress we are sometimes
nudged gradually, painfully in certain directions. For me one of the earliest turning points
occurred during my confirmation classes at my local Church of Ireland. The clergyman when alone with a dozen 13 year
olds, instead of preparing us spiritually, engaged in a bit of indoctrination
instead. He lectured us on the
disgusting betrayal marriage to Catholics would entail. He then proceeded to spout a narrow minded
evangelistic agenda that even I, a fairly naïve 13 year old girl from the high
on the Sperrin mountains, could not tolerate.
His predecessor the reverent Wills had been a
mild elderly man, with metal circular glasses, who lectured in his sermons with
soft pleas for humanity and understanding of one’s neighbours. My father had queried this gentle little man,
during a visit to our home, to be more demanding in his sermons. He asked him,
“Why don’t you tell them to not just love
their neighbours, but tell them to love their Catholic neighbours in
particular. Don’t you think that’s what
Christ meant?”
The tiny man had carefully wiped his
glasses in his lap and said apologetically,
“Now, Mr Stringer, I have to be careful not
to offend the congregation, you know yourself what people are like in these
parts.”
Rev Wills raised his narrow shoulders in
sympathy but continued,
“Sure, if I did anything like that, I’d be
preaching to an empty church and what purpose would that serve?”
Having just watched John Wayne in True
Grit, I listened to this conversation with disappointment and could not help
thinking what the nice Reverent Wills lacked was grit. I’d have preferred if he had mounted the
pulpit, a bible in each hand, and blasted the church goers left right and
centre (like Rooster Cogburn), whatever their particular prejudices.
Unfortunately, his successor lacked the
essential goodness of Rev Wills and his gentleness. His sermons were full of hell and grinding of
teeth for all sinners. His children
classes were sufficiently traumatic with their burning pits and devils with horns
that I’m sure he kept psychologists/counsellors and psychiatrists in business
for decades later. I had been dragged,
by my father, to Sunday School classes and services for years and had
complained bitterly. It was the
confirmation classes perversely that really confirmed my suspicions that this
man was not good. So clearly did I
articulate my abhorrence for the content of these confirmation classes my
father accepted my decision never to enter church premises ever again. I viewed this new clergyman with the distain
I had previously reserved for villains in a Dicken’s novel. It was hardly fair but adolescents are many
things but not forgiving.
When, I was obliged to attend weddings or
funerals I did so out of politeness and respect.
However, I listened to the sermon like a literary critic finding
satisfaction when he spouted something that I disagreed with. When the clergyman asked the congregation to
kneel or bow their heads in prayer, I refused to do either. Instead, he and I would often find ourselves
eyeballing each other across the bowed heads of the devout. I cultivated an accusing stare while he had a
bewildered look. I was confident my
stare told him exactly what I thought of him.
Hardly fair, I am sure he had more good qualities than I. To my adolescent mind he had fallen short of
St Francis’s standard and did not deserve my respect or ear. Ah, the black and white clarity of youth. There are not even greys, just right and
wrong. The good guys and the bad
ones. In a divided community between
Catholic and Protestant I found myself examining both with forensic
intensity. There was so much this
autopsy unearthed I felt like a coroner disengaged from both sides. It was a blessing that my father read so
widely as through him I had an appreciation of the Bible and knowledge of
Buddhism, Judaism, Islam and Hinduism.
In our family, reading was an obsession, whether it was the Quran, the recently translated
Dead
Sea Scrolls or the writings of Zoroaster. It has long shocked me how terrified people
are to truly investigate. To search for
the truth. To set aside petty prejudices
and really look. This independent
investigation was a constant call to arms.
Truth becomes obscured by ignorance and gradually disclosed by rational
effort. It leds to an appreciated of the
essential truths that all the main religions share. It helps elucidate the qualities that are
needed in society if we are to improve our civilisation. There have been enough rises and falls of
civilisations to chart the symptoms of deterioration. Even without a historical perspective an
examination of present day society would suffice to tell us we are on a
downward curve.
After fifty years I am no longer an
adolescent and colours have entered my palate.
There are forces of disintegration all around and people’s lives are caught
up in this old world order. That is being rolled up. Look into any institution and you cannot fail
to find the corruption just beneath the surface. Even the most well-intentioned bodies are
hounded to a standstill by persistent selfish agendas. But, I am no longer hopeless or in
despair. There are worse days ahead I’m
sure. Human society will weather storms
we cannot even guess at now. The
intensity of such catastrophes will serve to decrease the strange lethargy we
are all afflicted with. Perhaps,
anything that serves to allow us to come forth from the sheath of self will
transform not just us but society. The
degree to which we engage in building that noble society the happier and more
positive our mind-set. Fighting the forces
of darkness is like trying to dam a flood.
Constructing our personal defences, uniting with others who share a
vision for a better future is empowering.
Change is coming, we can choose to endure it or embrace the
transformation it entails. It had ever
been so.
In the second century the early Christians
were the victims of persecution. Polycarp, the venerable bishop of Smyrna was
arrested and imprisoned. While under guard he prayed so fervently and
powerfully the guards regretted that they had been involved in his
capture. Later, called upon to recant
his faith he refused. "Eighty and six years I have served Him, and He has
done me no wrong", Polycarp goes on to say, “Bring forth what thou
wilt." This elderly gentle bishop in
his nineties was burnt at the stake.
Talk about true grit!
I firmly believe we are designed to be
noble. To be better, than we can even possibly
imagine. In reaching that goal a new and
better civilisation becomes inevitable.
