RIGHT AND REASON: I had the pleasure last September of addressing our local Church of Ireland Synod here in Tuam, writes Dr Michael Neary
Whenever, as a Catholic, I attend a function of the Church of Ireland I remember Shaw's supposed description of England and America: "two countries divided by a common language".
Speaking at the synod I experienced yet again that same confusion of feeling. I was happy to be there and yet so very saddened that in many ways we still remain apart. How strange, indeed almost blasphemous, it seems that we should be two communities divided by a common faith in Jesus Christ.
I am not, as they say, "trailing my coat". I do not seek to be provocative. I would wish, rather, to start with that basic honesty which must be at the bottom of all our coming together.
There is a polarity in the relationship between our two church communities. It is expressed in the tension between the hard, incontrovertible fact that we are divided and the equally resilient conviction that it should not be so, and may not be so for ever.
In all of life we are constantly reminded of these wrestling, competing realities of dream and fact. And real they both are, the dream no less than the hard fact.
We have, it is often charged, scandalised the world with our apartness for almost 500 years. If we are honest we know that we shall probably continue to scandalise the world in this regard for quite some time to come. Yet we still have our dream and with it our hope. Christian hope is a living, active thing which does and makes even as it yearns. Hoping, therefore, and so creating, we go on.
Catholic spiritual directors in the past, confronted with a loss of faith, would advise that the person in question should persevere, acting in every respect as if he or she still believed. Eventually, it was felt, faith would return. The approach has more merit than may immediately be apparent to modern ears. The very act of setting out may become, in a sense, an experience of arrival.
A weak and stumbling hope, self-conscious and doubtful, often little more than a hunch, is still a real hope for all that and may in itself be the seed of new and deeper faith.
We must never, therefore, become cynical about ecumenism. All our apparently fruitless discussions and allegedly unanswered prayers constitute, I believe, a true spiritual exercise; a vital purging and ultimately a productive pilgrimage.
Choosing the solid ground of that on which we agree, we practise unity where we can in conscience do so. God will do the rest, nor should we waste precious time on questions of times and seasons. Patience, it might be said, is a vital skill in the trade of faith.
There is more to be said on this. If you want an example of how we can "do" unity, while remaining honest with each other and ourselves, I would point to my presence at the synod in Tuam that day. I would point to the cheerfully supportive presence of my Anglican counterpart, Dr Richard Henderson, at so many occasions of real importance in the quiet life of our largely rural archdiocese.
I would consider these to be excellent examples, to which you might add, in this stretch of the west, a host of other tiny signs of healing. The occasional loan of a church for a special occasion or facilities made available for this or that function. Telephone numbers and e-mail addresses exchanged. Website links created.
I accept that such muted, patient patchwork quilting may earn the contempt of the ecumenically ambitious and the suspicion of those on either side who regard the whole thing as pointless.
But life is lived out in details. "God", as the man said, "is in the detail". This is ecumenism in the best sense: in that it is sensible. In this way, sometimes, quietly and without much fuss, we speak with one voice and the Gospel is well preached.
I cannot help but notice that the Church of Ireland is more audible of late. Its bishops speak out. Its ministers are heard more frequently. No doubt, if I am right, this is a feature of a new society no longer dominated by the Catholic Church in the manner of the past. Whatever the reason I am glad of it and believe it will tend greatly towards the good of us all.
This deceptively small community has contributed immeasurably not only to the Christian tradition but to the development of our country. We could sit down with the Church of Ireland, it is true, and "argue the toss" for ever, but I have no doubt as to the value of that contribution before now or its likely quality in the future. W.B. Yeats once proudly described his co-religionists as being "no petty people".
The Church of Ireland needs no reassurance from me, but Yeats was right, and as a Catholic archbishop I am happy to say it. I would further mention our own recent and present troubles, of which a detailed account is hardly needed here. These have not been the subject of much discussion between the two churches, yet I have been aware of a spirit of concern and have been grateful for it.
A community smaller in the spiritual sense might have been tempted, frankly, to a degree of satisfaction in the agony of an erstwhile foe. Because our relations in the past, and let us again be honest here, were not always cordial or kind or at times even polite it might have seemed, to lesser spirits, a chance for settling all accounts.
If it did and if such was acted upon I am not aware of it. I have noticed only the sombre gravity with which the Church of Ireland has watched us turn, however reluctantly, to start up a hard and lengthy road. As fellow Christians, I believe that they understand how hard and long that road may be.
I am deeply grateful for fellowship tacitly but unmistakably expressed and prayers undoubtedly said. I would only ask that they continue, and, for my part, shall depend on them as I go.
At the synod Bishop Henderson spoke with great passion and eloquence about the indispensable role which the Bible has in our shared faith tradition. I would reflect on one aspect of that tradition which I find enormously consoling and supportive at this difficult time in our own church. I refer to Israel's experience of exile in 587BC, when the Jews were deprived of both temple and homeland.
Traumatised by this loss and surrounded by the seductive culture of Babylon, the Jews were tempted to abandon their faith. But the prophet of the exile, the one we call Deutero-Isaiah, arose and enabled them to face that enormous challenge.
While the people tended to look to days of glory in the past this prophet reminded them that God was active in the present and that he was calling them to a new future. They had to look for meaning and search for God in a deeper way.
As we know, it was precisely during the Exile that the Jews came to a greater appreciation of their faith and traditions. Deprived of the usual sociological "props" they turned to God in a more urgent and purified way. This enabled them to address the question of the earlier apparent eclipse of God. And all of this has an even wider application.
In many ways our culture today is not unlike the culture that faced the People of God in exile. Fast and frantically preoccupied, society would seem to have marginalised God and curtailed his influence. This problem is not new, of course, but its modern intensity may not have much in the way of precedent. Yet in all the upheavals that are taking place in our society, there still rises a human cry for God and for meaning.
I believe that we have the resources within our faith communities to address the challenge of contemporary culture. Our shared Christian vision of human nature and destiny is one which needs voicing as never before.
I am convinced that we will be better equipped to do this if we co-operate, support and share our respective traditions. And we should be kind and patient with each other in the face of such a challenge. There is so much to be done and every pair of hands is precious. Together then, choosing the words of the Book of Common Prayer, let us address Him again in ragged ecumenical chorus:
"We bless thee for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all, for thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory".
Dr Michael Neary is Catholic Archbishop of Tuam