Current abuse scandals are having a deep impact, partly because blame is centring on the Hierarchy rather than individual clerics, writes Joe Humphreys.
A few dozen mainly elderly people make their way down the steps of Dublin's Pro-Cathedral. It's Thursday, and lunchtime Mass has just finished. "Where have all the young people gone?" Séan Ó Maolmuera (77), from Killester, asks. "I remember when the chapel would be packed for daily Mass, and on Saturdays there'd be queues down the street for Confession."
The answer, or part of it, can be read on the newsstands around the corner. The headlines read: "Call in the gardaí now" . . . "Swear on the Bible: Tell us Cardinal what you knew about this pervert priest" . . . "5,000 lives destroyed by clergy in Ireland and the church did nothing". Invective against the Catholic Church appears to be reaching new heights.
"I think there is some church-bashing going on," says Mr Ó Maolmuera. "I agree the church should be a bit more open and clear the air over these scandals. But one has to accept priests are only human. They'll make mistakes."
The few young people attending the same Mass don't see it that way, however. Diarmud Keegan, from Leitrim, says the scandals mightn't be undermining people's faith "but they are affecting attitudes to the church".
Although the current controversy is not the first to hit the institution, there is an impression it is having a deeper impact than previous scandals, partly because the blame is centring on the Hierarchy rather than individual clerics.
Therese Devine (63), from Carrick-on-Suir, Co Tipperary, struck a chord with many Catholics when she phoned RTÉ's Liveline during the week to say she had no more faith in the church. "For the first time in my life I didn't attend the Easter services. I felt it would have been hypocritical."
She told The Irish Times: "I think there are a lot of people, and women in particular, around my age who feel the same as I, who are faltering in their faith, who have become disillusioned with the church. In my opinion, all of the bishops should resign en masse. You never hear them. They should be out among the people."
A recent European Commission survey shows how trust in the church has already declined because of prior scandals. Just 53 per cent of Irish people surveyed in 1999 said they tended to trust the church, which put the institution behind voluntary organisations, the civil service and the Garda in terms of perceived trustworthiness, but ahead of political parties.
Other research suggests people are paying less attention to church teaching while retaining the faith. An Irish Times/MRBI poll six years ago found that 78 per cent of Irish Catholics follow their own conscience rather than the teaching of the church when it comes to "serious moral decisions".
A subsequent poll found only 19 per cent of Catholics agree with the church on contraception, 21 per cent on celibacy and 23 per cent on women priests.
"There has been a drip-drip effect over the past 10 or 12 years now, since Brendan Smith really," says Father Brian D'Arcy, who this week welcomed Bishop Brendan Comiskey's resignation over the Father Séan Fortune affair. He says people are continuing to lose confidence in the church, and this will only change if it ceases to be guided by legal advice and, rather, acts "like the compassionate group of people we are supposed to be, promoting the values Christ taught us".
For a start, the church law on compulsory celibacy needs to be "seriously examined", says Father D'Arcy. "The whole institution is so self-protective about this model of male, celibate priesthood. Trying to fit everyone into that is hugely damaging."
Somewhat ominously, he notes: "Rather than do with less priests, we are prepared to put up with bad priests. The quality of some of the people being accepted into the priesthood is building up a store of damage for the future."
THE damage to the church from the current controversies has been exacerbated by the Hierarchy's apparent unwillingness to address difficult issues openly. As the public relations adviser and former priest Tom Savage points out: "There is almost certainly never anything to be gained from pulling up the drawbridge and refusing to comment. While keeping in mind the rights of individuals, the one thing the public needs to be assured of is that there is an examination, or a process, going on which people can understand clearly. Traditionally, the church does not do that sort of thing."
The church's ability to communicate effectively is undermined by the fact that it has no single office, says Savage. "What you have is 26 separate bishops who are not accountable to anyone. They do report to Rome, but Rome is a long way away, and how each will react under intense pressure will depend on the background, personality, and training of each one of them."
Privately, a number of priests say the damage to the church from recent scandals would have been reduced had a different set of personalities been in place. Cardinal Desmond Connell's communications style comes in for widest criticism, with one priest characterising the cardinal's approach as one of: "If you can't say it in an obscure, metaphysical way don't say it at all."
Another cleric, Father Seán Fagan, a lecturer at the Milltown Institute of Philosophy and Theology, believes very few members of the Hierarchy "have the gift of being able to speak ordinary English".
"They prattle away, reflecting on the latest article that they read. But what you really want is someone talking from the heart, not talking down to you," he says.
Back at the Pro-Cathedral, Ann Mongey, a mother of six from Artane and daily Mass-goer, agrees. Citing the anti-homelessness campaigner Father Peter McVerry as one of the few priests she admires, she says: "The way some of them preach, you'd think everyone in the church was dead. There is no compassion there, and if you've no compassion you may as well have no church."