Ireland doesn’t always captivate the attention of the global entertainment community, but on the occasions it does, we should probably pay attention to the subject matter. Cillian Murphy will star in a visual dramatisation of a story about the Magdalene Laundries, based on the novel “Small Things Like These” by Claire Keegan. Mr. Murphy reportedly describes the film as taking place in the “dysfunctional Christian society” of 1980s Ireland. While this particular subject matter has captured the attention of producers such as Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, is “dysfunction” the best that “Irish Christianity” has offer the world?
It is without doubt that there were events in church history in Ireland that were not only dysfunctional but immoral and even criminal. I do not wish to minimise or undermine the hurt and pain that has been caused by the actions of certain figures purporting to represent God, who instead, misused positions of power. But is this history the only noteworthy tale “Irish Christianity” has to offer? Or are there any other stories that should engage the airwaves, despite their failure to catch the attention of renowned thespians who shape the entertainment industry?
In a world where diversity is a much treasured and often elusive societal goal, one might be surprised to find that a visit to some evangelical churches in Dublin would reveal a representation of same that would rival any mandated quota system one might try to manufacture. Places where individuals of great national and cultural difference willingly choose to gather at the same inconvenient time and location on a Sunday morning with a common goal and belief system that transcends any such difference.
One might also find such socio-economic diversity displayed as is difficult to intentionally replicate. Places where sheltered private school kids from the leafy suburbs of Kildare attend Sunday school and play with kids from inner city communities who would probably never otherwise have the occasion or reason to meet and interact. Suddenly they have something in common. An otherwise impossible friendship has developed.
One might find in such locations, individuals whose lives were formerly marked by drugs and crime, now committed fathers and husbands engaged in meaningful employment. One might run into those who have even gone on to pull others out of cycles of addiction.
There can be little argument that holding to a biblical world view or, perhaps more accurately, publicly professing a biblical world view on a number of key topics, is coming with an increasingly greater cost in Europe. In Finland, it has cost a certain political figure the stress of legal battles resulting from criminal charges. In the United Kingdom, it has resulted in one political representative’s temporary suspension from position. Considering all of this, and the backdrop of certain scandals in Irish religious past, is it better for those professing Christian faith, whether Catholic, Protestant or of whatever denomination, to keep the head down and avoid notice?
It is arguable that the notion of a “quiet faith” is not one which can be extracted from examining the life of Christianity’s founder and deity. This same founder was the one who openly and repetitively chastised religious leaders for hypocrisy. The founder who interrupted religious gatherings to pronounce that he was the fulfilment of humanity’s profoundly insatiable spiritual longing. The founder whose words caused so much offence that his thousands of followers dwindled to all but 12. The founder who started no political revolution but whose publicly spoken words generated such ire that he was accused and condemned to death. The founder and deity whose followers’ scientifically impossible claims of his resurrection from death continue to inspire the devotion of adherents across continents thousands of years later, and are believed and professed by university professors and academics.
In a world where keeping the mouth shut as a Christian is an increasing temptation to ensure societal acceptance and success in life, it is perhaps all the more unadvisable to conduct a March through Dublin city to publicly celebrate Jesus, said founder and deity. I for one am curious what sort of crowd the March this October 26 might attract. Will it display such diversity of backgrounds and languages said deity claims are his handiwork and design? Could the invisible factor of faith in a man who it is claimed paid a very great price for humanity’s rebellion be key to a unity mankind finds so compelling yet so elusive?Here’s to the dream that the land of storytellers will not ignore the hope-filled testimonies of those whose lives have been positively changed, by their encounters with Irish Christianity.
Grace Sullivan is a practising barrister. She has an LL.B. from Trinity College Dublin and a BCL from Oxford University. She worked for a defence team at the International Criminal Court in The Hague for a number of years before returning to Ireland to obtain her domestic qualification.