REMNANT OR LEAVEN?
In the new situation where active, committed believers are a minority how are we to see ourselves? One option is for this minority to see itself as the holy remnant. In other words, we are saved and everyone else is heading for ruin. In practical terms this would be an elitist view. Only those who are fully paid up members, so to speak, would be seen as belonging, and for instance, only those would be allowed have their children baptised. The other option would be for the minority to see itself as a leaven in the wider community. This is an inclusive approach. This means accepting the fact that there are people who are not fully paid up members, but they have some faith and some association with the Church and this provides an opportunity for the Church to nurture what faith they have. This is not to lower standards, but to reach out to all.
A possible profile of Irish society in the future may be something like 20% fully committed Christians, 60% with varying degrees of faith, commitment and understanding of the Christian message and 20% atheists and agnostics. In a population of five to six million, that would mean that there would be over a million very committed Christians. It is hard to be pessimistic about that. Their influence on society is bound to be greater than that of the million or so atheists and agnostics who would not necessarily be very militant.
-Fr Edward Cullinan, in The Furrow, July/August, 2003.
AS I WAS SAYING...
"The trouble of the modern age is not merely the inability to believe certain things about God which our forefathers believed, but the inability to feel towards God and man as they did." T.S. Eliot wrote that sentence in the 1930s. What has changed in modern (relatively!) times is not how we THINK about God, but how we FEEL about God. We have moved from sacred time to profane time, Eliot argued. Obviously, some values have been lost.
There is no doubt that the demarcation line that once existed so clearly between the sacred and the profane has now faded. The concerns which surround the fate of the altar rails at the moment is in reality a concern with the disappearance of that 'demarcation line'. The awe that surrounded the Sacred in the days of pre-Vatican II has been diluted. Some lament what they regard as the disappearance of respect for things sacred.
But a change of attitude doesn't necessarily mean a disappearance of respect. Attitudes to other important elements in society have changed every bit as radically. For example, many will hold that respect for such figures of authority as doctors, teachers, bishops, brothers and priests has disappeared. (We are only too aware of the horrors perpetrated when 'respect' abounded! What do we mean by 'respect'?) Children no longer 'respect' their parents, pupils no longer 'respect' their teachers, and so on. People certainly relate differently to each other today. The classroom is a good barometer of society. I know several children who actually enjoy going to school today. These were rare birds in my day! I would contend that the classroom is a far more healthy and civilised environment than it was a few decades ago. Our relationship with the sacred has changed in an analogous way: perhaps we are more 'at home' with the sacred today? The fear and the terror has gone.
In truth though, many of those who regret this development approached the Sacred with an Old Testament fervour. For example, they looked upon the church building as the Jews regarded the Temple in Jerusalem. Life within the Temple was rigidly stratified; gentiles were barred entirely. Women were never permitted to progress beyond the precincts. Only the High Priest could enter the Holy of Holies, and then only once annually, on the Day of Atonement. The parallels with the Church of pre-Vatican days are striking. Women were not allowed within the sanctuary of the Catholic Church (except for cleaning purposes of course!). Lay people were not permitted to touch certain sacred cloths and vessels. A whole raft of taboos surrounded the sacred place. And, it seems to me, all had their origins in the Old Testament temple worship. But the gospels tell us that, at the death of Jesus, "the veil of the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom." . A new era of salvation history begins where the Temple will no longer be a building.
There have been losses, of course. But enormous gains have been made too. Catholicism is now far more 'people friendly', far more humane, as befits an incarnational religion. And fear, such a central ingredient in the 'Old Religion', has thankfully abated! There is a stronger emphasis now on the sacredness of every human being. And all sacred space and time must point us in that direction. That must be a positive development.
-Dick Lyng.
CONFESSION: NEW ARRANGEMENTS
Traditionally, there was a priest available in the Confessional in the Priory all day. You simply rang the bell. This practice dated back to a time when priests (as well as sins!) were rather more plentiful. The following is the new programme:
CONFESSIONS IN CHURCH
TUESDAY-FRIDAY
12.00-12.45
SATURDAY
11.30-12.30.
3.30-5.30.
An Apology
Sincere apologies, too late I know, for not getting engaged
on the night we'd planned, Christmas Eve 1962. I had the ring in
my pocket, the one we'd bought together that November
from the little jewellers on Whitefriargate in Hull. Remember?
After Midnight Mass arm-in-arming back to ours,
we linger outside the gates of Seaforth Park. The moon
smiling and expectant. No wind, no people, no cars.
Sheets of ice are nailed to the streets with stars.
The scene is set, two lovers on the silver screen.
A pause, the copy-book kiss. Did angels sing?
This was my moment, the cue to pledge my troth,
to take out the blue, velvet box, and do my stuff.
But marriage was a bridge I feared might be detonated,
And I had this crazy idea that if I didn't mention it, then you
wouldn't either. That we'd collude in romantic amnesia.
That life would go on as before. What could be easier?
Christmas passed. Enraged, you blew up. I felt the blast.
We got engaged. It didn't last.
-Roger McGough
In a Strange Land
The first thing to hit the traveller when walking out of Cebu City airport, The Philippines is the intense humidity - the kind of heat that makes you catch your breath and wonder can you exhale with less effort? Collapsing into the taxi and staring out the window, the second thing to impact is the abject poverty.
The Philippines has been a cocktail colony - a little bit of Spain, little bit of America, hints of Japan and China and the end result is like a cluttered West of Ireland sitting room. All the artefacts and souvenirs from every holiday and returned immigrant fighting for space on the display cabinet while through the window is the unmistakable view of rocky soil, stone walls and the Atlantic.
So through the openings of the jeepney (old American army jeeps, now serving as colourful, noisy public transport) you pass McDonalds, rickety barbecue stalls, massive shopping malls, tiny wooden huts fronting a "shop window", Tao temples, churches, internet cafes, padi fields, the South China Sea... infinite colours, smells and noises. Sadly, Cebu being the major port and the people being terribly poor it seems to have adopted the most superficial elements from every culture!
My experience of Mass on my first Sunday epitomised a lot. T.V. screens all over the church with very amateur camera work making my nephew's christening look like "The Matrix Reloaded". The image would jump from the priest's face (or half his face!) to words of hymns projected onto the wall in light green ink that nobody could make out, presumably so that everybody could join in! Electric guitars, synthesisers, Eurovision style hymns, choir members jostling over microphones.
However, the smirk soon left my face and my interest heightened when I moved to the neighbouring rural island of Negros where the people have suffered unbelievably under large wealthy landowners and their sugar plantations, terrible working conditions, cosy cartels, corruption and blatant, unconcealed greed. Flying a lone flag for the poor is the church, the champion of which seems to have been the late Bishop Fortich. Nobel Peace Prize Nominee, likened to Romero, the man single-handedly introduced a stream of initiatives: co-ops, credit unions, rural congress, peace zones. Soon his priests took up the cry and countless projects have been started at parish level.
The Bishop died since I have come to the Philippines and sensing a historic occasion I made the trip to Bacolod city to attend his funeral. The only thing I could liken it to is the opening scene from "Evita" - divine music, body lying in state for days before the funeral and thousands of people filing past the glass and golden casket. What will remain most in my memory were the crowds and crowds of the poor (outside the church!) who had travelled miles down from the mountains to pay their last respects to their inspired ally who had lived, preached and believed the gospels. How I wished that I wasn't the only westerner I knew witnessing it.
-CHRISTINA MEEHAN (Christina, from Salthill, is working with the Presentation Sisters in The Philippines).
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