Today is Church Unity Sunday. Thirty years ago, the Ecumenical Movement -the movement that promotes dialogue and common worship among Christians- received the endorsement of all the main Christian Churches. The movement began with youthful enthusiasm. Courses and conferences were held up and down the country. Interchurch services, then a novelty, were soon commonplace. Theological experts from the various main churches met to iron out their liturgical and theological differences. And these differences were by no means major ones.

It is not my intention to minimise the progress that has been made in the relationships between the Christian Churches. Mutual respect has replaced mutual hostility. We visit each others Churches for funerals and weddings. The sectarian divisiveness that Austin Clarke railed against in his famous poem, 'Death of a President' is now but a dim memory. Douglas Hyde, Clarke's friend and former teacher, was the Protestant head of the Catholic state. His funeral, in the Protestant St. Patrick's Cathedral, was an embarrassment to the conspicuously absent Catholic politicians. Citizens of Dublin stayed away from the Service too:

Two Catholics, the French
Ambassador and I, knelt down.
The vergers waited. Outside.
The hush of Dublin town,
Costello, his Cabinet,
In Government cars, hiding
Around the corner, ready
Tall hat in hand, dreading
Our Father in English, Better
Not hear that 'which' for 'who'
And risk eternal doom.

We have come a long way in Ecumenical terms since the death of Douglas Hyde. In fact it appeared at one point that unity among the Christian Churches was inevitable. Archbishop Michael Ramsey of Canterbury forecast in the early 1970s that the Anglican and Catholic Churches would have achieved full union within ten years. He had the good fortune to be dead before his deadline transpired. So the union of the Churches was but a matter of time. However, such optimism proved to be naive. The movement soon lost it original impetus and enthusiasm. The conferences and seminars soon fizzled out. The annual prayer gathering for Christian unity was reduced to tokenism, to a mere cliché. It was reduced to motley crews of bloodied but unbowed enthusiasts huddled in cold Churches on a week night in January, the only bit of colour provided but the gaudy gear of the vicars and bishops. Tea and biscuits were provided to wash it all down. Presumably, in the days following, the local bishop sat at his desk and reported the gathering to Rome, the sub-text being: "We have once more done our bit for Christian unity." Some bureaucrat in the Vatican would enter this into a log, and, when all the reports had come in, the universal picture looked rosy indeed. It mattered little that real ecumenism was dead in the water for all practical purposes. It the mind of the bureaucrat and the book-keeper, ecumenism was still alive and kicking gloriously.

However, this bleak picture is a generalisation. Ecumenism has fared better in other countries. In Britain, Northern Europe and the States, Interchurch relations have gone beyond the stage of politeness to a meaningful exchange of services and, in the case of hospital chaplains for example, to one of mutual supply. In other words, it amounts to a mutual recognition of the full validity of each others ministries. Significantly, ecumenism seems to fare better where our own Church, the Roman Catholic Church, is in the minority. This is certainly true of England and northern Europe. And a generosity given from a position of strength is far more impressive than a generosity emanating from a position of weakness.

As we know only too well from Northern Ireland, it is impossible to isolate religious factors from the other strands that go to make up our life and culture. In our own country, ecumenism has been seriously burdened by historical baggage. Ownership of land is inextricably bound up with the minority religion. How many of us now remember when this was a real issue? But, fortunately or unfortunately, folk memory is more far-reaching than individual memories. And those memories need to be finally exorcised before the religious issue can be resolved.

And the key to this resolution could well be found in the invitation of Jesus to his sceptical bystanders: "Come and see." Unless we meet one another, get to know one another, and even get to like one another, all the theorising and tokenism will remain just insubstantial candy-floss, mere window-dressing. As the majority Church, it is we who are obliged to make the generous move. Because in an increasingly secular age, domestic bickering about obscure theological points is truly a scandal. We should listen attentively to the appeal of Paul to the bickering Corinthians: "Make up the differences between you and, instead of disagreeing among yourselves, be united again in your belief and practice.... What I mean are all these slogans that you have, like: I'm for Paul, I'm for Apollos, I'm for Cephas? Has Christ been parcelled out?"
Outsiders today could be forgiven for asking the same question.

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