Love thy neighbour? Perish the thought!

Just another short comment on the Irish gay marriage referendum.  The day afterwards a radio discussion programme dwelt on the number of older people, and presumably older Catholics, who voted Yes. A studio guest told that when she arrived at the polling station several people were leaving, some wearing stern expressions (and she assumed these to be the no voters) and others chatting and laughing (these she assumed to be the yes voters).  Two ladies in their sixties were chuckling that “they had done their good deed”.

Which brings to me the letters page of The Irish Catholic.  Columnists and readers of this paper continue to agonise over the gay marriage vote, and in the current edition, the letter of the week, printed under the heading "Many Catholics are out of touch with Church teaching" makes interesting reading.

Dr Janina Lyons of Dublin 15 mourns the result of the same-sex marriage referendum and observes that of those who voted Yes, surely a number were older Mass-going Catholics. So why did they vote yes? Dr Lyons believes that many did so because they thought it was a kind and loving thing to do for their gay family members and friends, and they were persuaded by the slogan “Equality and Love”.

This tells us, she goes on, that there is great confusion in the Catholic Church about Christ’s teaching.  Many Catholics no longer know that same-sex relations are wrong. However much we love our child, sister, friend we cannot change God’s truth to accommodate our feelings and sympathy.

We need a new catechesis of all members of our Church, she says, meaning that the Church needs to make a better job of teaching Catholics what they should believe.

Filing it where it belongs

Being a sad man, I haven't been able to resist writing to the editor of The Irish Catholic expressing the hope this new catechesis will give due weight to Mark 12:29. This is where Jesus, asked to name the greatest commandment, replied first to love God, and second to love your neighbour as yourself. “There is no commandment greater than these.”

Perhaps the Mass-going Catholics who voted yes in the referendum did so in conformity with this teaching, my letter wittily concludes. Will it be printed?  I fear not.  Up till a couple of years ago the editor used to print my letters, but he's wise to me now and recently has filed them where they belong.

Reflections on that referendum

Home to vote: image that appeared in the Irish Examiner the day after the referendum with the caption “one of many emigrants that returned home yesterday to vote”.

A few reflections on the Irish marriage referendum, now that the result is known: Yes 62% No 38%, with a turnout of more than 60%.  

The Yes campaign brought about the largest turnout in a referendum in over two decades (we have plenty in Ireland), and it's led to talk of a “social revolution” and a “tsunami of support”.  A mass invasion of polling stations by young people, and the home to vote campaign (which I've only become aware of in the past couple of days). And grandparents turning out to vote yes too. “The people’s resounding approval of gay marriage was influenced by an energetic, orderly, and unprecedented campaign that points to a potential sea change in the future of Irish politics”  in the words of the Irish Examiner.

I'm not sure I can go along with this tsunami business. 60% turnout? Hmm. But what is true is that anyone over 40 can remember when government and people were in thrall to the Catholic Church. And that's now gone.  On Friday night, before the count, I commented that in this locality Catholic mass attendance by people of my age is high, and I predicted that many massgoers would take their lead from the Catholic bishops.  Well I got a surprise. Looking at the voting figures for our constituency (Cork East) I see they very closely mirror the national average. Fewer Yes's than in Dublin, for sure, where it was over 70% - nonetheless, way higher than I expected.

Archbishop Diarmuid Martin: not wholehearted

It's worth mentioning that the Catholic Church didn't speak with a single voice.  Archbishop Diarmuid Martin of Dublin didn't appear wholehearted in his opposition. “In airing my views in public debate, I do not expect to be listened to on the basis of dogmatic utterance, but on the reasonableness of my argument.”

And more than one Catholic priest publicly stated an intention to vote for gay marriage.  Fr Iggy O’Donovan for one, prompting a reader to the Irish Catholic to write “Dear Editor, I was flabbergasted to read of Fr Iggy O’Donovan’s reported intention to vote yes in regard to the referendum concerning same-sex marriage. I read the article three times to ensure I had not misconstrued the press report!”

An amusing anecdote from the campaign. The loving family appearing in the Vote No poster that featured at the top of my last post, weren't Irish, didn't know about the referendum, and when they found out, came on national radio to explain that they didn't support voting No. Lastly, can I justify the statement that Ireland was recently in thrall to the Catholic Church?  I can but not now.  For a taster I refer to the divorce referendums of 1986 and 1995 (previous post), and what I wrote about the Mother and Child crisis of 1951.

On today's gay marriage referendum in Ireland

Well, have voted in Ireland’s marriage equality referendum, and we’ll have to wait till tomorrow for the count.  All commentators are confident it will be passed. 

The necessity by the way for gay marriage to be put to a referendum, arises due to marriage being enshrined in the Irish constitution; and a constitutional amendment requires a referendum. The amendment voted on today is to add a clause to article 41. I would actually have preferred a different approach. Had I my way, the question on the ballot paper would have been to delete article 41 in its entirety, as it's already a hodge podge.   See for yourself.

It includes the state recognising “that by her life within the home, woman gives to the State a support without which the common good cannot be achieved.” And it contains the grounds for divorce (living apart for at least four years and no reasonable prospect of a reconciliation). Which apart from being too restrictive, just doesn't belong in a constitution, it belongs in legislation.

I should mention the historical background to these divorce clauses being in article 41. The present constitution began life in 1937 and when first adopted included an absolute ban on divorce.  To allow divorce at all, therefore, needed a constitutional amendment; and this was done by the Fifteenth Amendment in 1995.  That was the second divorce referendum. The first was in 1986 where the proposal to allow divorce was defeated by a whopping margin of almost 2:1. The 1937 constitution was a strongly Catholic document, and in 1986 the Catholic Church still held sway to keep it that way.  Even in 1995, divorce only got through by a whisker.  

Two referendums today

There was another referendum today. It was to reduce the minimum age for candidates for the presidency from 35 to 21. Well, OK, I did vote for this, but heavens above, there are more pressing constitutional amendments that ought to have priority, and were considered by a constitutional convention last year.  Blasphemy for one.  The constitution provides that “the publication or utterance of blasphemous, seditious, or indecent matter is an offence which shall be punishable in accordance with law”, though strangely blasphemy wasn’t actually legislated against until 2009. No that’s not a typo, 2009.

Apparently there was a high turnout today in urban centres which indicates success for the Yes side,  as the No’s are likely to reside in rural Ireland where the Catholic Church still has some residual influence.  Here's this week’s Mitchelstown mass leaflet.

In this locality, mass attendance by people of my age is high, and many massgoers will, I'm fairly sure, take their lead from the Catholic bishops. Younger generations, less so. Generally, young voters appear to have been hugely energised by the Yes campaign, especially in urban areas.

According to the Irish Times whose website I've just consulted, the turnout across Dublin county was 65%, and in Cork city was above 60%.  For a referendum that's high, apparently.

I forgot to mention what would follow if my plan were to be followed to scrap article 41 entirely.  I would then enact legislation which would delete “marriage” from all laws. The state would register civil partnerships only, and all existing marriages would be reclassified as civil partnerships.  Henceforth marriage would be a cultural event that you could do in church or other venue of your choice.   If you believe that marriage is a union of man and woman, open to the procreation of children, and a gift from God, then there would be no apparent conflict between that belief and the law of the land.

Islamic State puts me in mind of Bamiyan

Hatra, a fortified city that withstood attack by the Romans

Today two linked stories in the media. The Guardian reports Iraq’s director of antiquities confirming that Islamic State militants (don't like the word but more of that another day) have ransacked the ancient city of Dur-Sharrukin near Mosul. This is the group’s latest assault on the country’s 3,000 year heritage, the report following hard on the heels of news of destroyed ruins at the ancient city of Hatra.  (I'm not clear if the destruction includes the city walls in the image above.  The story was on the BBC website a few days ago.)
 

Bamiyan Buddhas. Left, after 1,500 years. Right, after 1,500 years and 25 days

The other linked story I came across today is also from the BBC who have interviewed an Afghani bicycle repair mechanic in Bamiyan, one Mirza Hussain. In March 2001 as a prisoner of the Taliban he was forced to carry explosives to blow the Bamiyan Buddhas up.  "I regretted it at that time, I regret it now and I will always regret it," he says. "But I could not resist, I didn't have a choice because they would have killed me."  He recalls two to three explosions every day to destroy the Buddha, and drilling holes into the statue to plant the dynamite without proper tools.  He remembers the whole process took 25 days, and that the Taliban brought nine cows to slaughter as a sacrifice.
 
I've blogged about the Bamiyan Buddhas before, in 2011. At that time I was exercised by the debate whether they should be left as rubble; a debate that so far as I know continues.  But now the Buddha destruction has a more urgent relevance.  The annihilation of these ancient sandstone carvings, once the world's tallest Buddhas, in an act of destruction that shocked the world, doubtless inspired the recent vandalism of Iraqi heritage sites by Islamic State fighters.   And it's set me thinking about iconoclasm generally.  Islamic State, which controls large areas of Iraq and Syria, says shrines and statues are "false idols" that have to be smashed.  Carved to the glory of God, and in an act of performance art, smashed to the glory of God.  It could be argued, though not by me, that one act is as valid as the other.   More about this when my thoughts are in order.   

Mirza Hussain today, from the BBC website

As a postscript we should note that according to Newsweek, when the Taliban destroyed the Bamiyan Buddhas, residents hiding in the mountains at the time, heard explosions for three or four days.  Fifty cows were sacrificed at the site for Taliban dignitaries flown in by helicopter for the celebration. Mirza Hussain says 25 days and mentions only 9 cows. The sort of conflict of evidence that journalists and historians have to grapple with daily.    

Stephen Fry’s gauntlet: the Problem of Evil

I seek expert opinion on God

From time to time I struggle with composing my atheist manifesto. But maybe I'm making too much of a meal of it, as it can actually be expressed quite simply.  I find no use for the concept of God. But nor do I believe in campaigning for atheism or mocking those who find solace in religion, and I've never felt the need to try to convert anyone away from a religious belief. (This is because I've led a sheltered life. Some religious beliefs are downright evil, and those holding them most certainly need converting.)

On an Irish television programme ten days ago Stephen Fry was asked what he thought about God and religion, and he gave an answer very much in line with the foregoing. The programme was an episode in RTÉ’s series The Meaning of Life. To conclude the 30-minute interview, veteran Irish journalist Gay Byrne asked Stephen Fry to suppose that it's judgment day, and that contrary to Fry’s expectation, God really exists. What would he say to God in these circumstances?

Here's his answer.  It's the programme's trailer, whose audience passed the five million mark several days ago, it seems, dwarfing the audience for the actual broadcast.

Fry begins by using a long word. Theodicy.  On looking it up I found this is the attempt to answer the question of why a good God permits the manifestation of evil. 

Fry then launches into the speech he would make to God at the gates of heaven.  In a nutshell it's this:-

Bone cancer in children? What’s that about? How dare you?  Yes the world is very splendid. But it has in it insects whose whole life cycle is to burrow into the eyes of children and make them blind.  Why did you do that to us? You could easily have made a creation in which that didn’t exist. It is simply not acceptable.

He thinks the moment you banish God, your life becomes simpler, purer, cleaner, more worth living.

I have a transcript if you want it. But Stephen Fry’s words aren’t what I want to concentrate on.  It's the gauntlet he's thrown down to debate the Problem of Evil that interests me; and the rest of what I have to say is about how Christian apologists picked that gauntlet up.

The Irish Catholic tried to reassure its readers with the headline “Stephen Fry was wrong about God, claims expert”.  When you examine what the expert has to say, it's pretty woeful, even though he's a professor of philosophy. All we get is that human beings cause the world’s injustice not God.  It's a result of us having free will.  So there is no Problem of Evil.  Move along please, nothing to see here.

Bad move. Everyone, believer or not, knows Christianity (for non-Christian religions see appendix) has a Problem of Evil, and it's simple to express: God can't be at the same time all-powerful,  good, and just.  I don't know much about Stephen Fry’s eye-eating worm; but it's a fair bet that if I gave all I could spare to assist in cleaning up the water supply this would kill a lot of worms and save a lot of children. Yet I don't give all I can spare … why … because of my human frailty.  Were there a just God, it would be my eye that was eaten. But it's not mine. It's a child’s in far away village.  Why is that allowed?

Giles Fraser: chutzpah.   Rowan Williams: lame
But good eggs both

For those who would convince us there's a God, this is a conundrum. To which they propose four possible solutions. None is popular, and it takes courage to stand in the public square and declare any of them. Here they are:-

1.    It's not God’s fault it's ours. God gave us free will and we’ve misused it.

2.    God isn't all-powerful: we’ve read the Bible all wrong.

3.    Amends will be made in the afterlife: the downtrodden will go to heaven, and an eternity of bliss will make this world’s sufferings pale into insignificance.

4.    Our understanding is weak: if we saw the whole picture like God does, we would see it's all OK.

Option 1 (championed in the Irish Catholic) is so hopelessly off-target it's not even worth running to pick up the ball. 

Giles Fraser, The Guardian’s Loose Canon, goes for option no 2.   Hats off, he has chutzpah to claim that God is powerless and we must forget all the stuff in the Bible about creating the world and being almighty, apparently it's all metaphorical.  Giles Fraser by the way is a good egg, and if you'll forgive a digression, just read what he had to say about the burning by ISIS of the Jordanian pilot, and how he felt about watching the video of it on the internet.

Former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams goes for option 3.   Hats off once more.  You can't help admiring someone who can stand up for a position so utterly lame.  Rowan Williams is another good egg. I mean no harm to either of them.

Blogging on the Catholic Herald website, a priest, one Ed Tomlinson, espouses option 4.  His blog is worth reading because Fr Ed admits that natural evil is a tricky issue for believers, and there’s no glib or easy answer to the question of why God, if he exists, allows suffering.  But then he subtly changes the subject - and he's not the only one I've detected in this sleight of hand. He says “removing God from the equation does nothing whatsoever to eradicate the problem of suffering in this world”. 

In other words, never mind how I deal with the Problem of Evil, how do you atheists deal with the Problem of Evil? A fair question (and actually a far more interesting question, the answer to which is another day’s work) but hey, if you change the subject, you lose the argument! 

Two appendices

An appendix regarding other religions. So far as I know the Problem of Evil exists in exactly the same form in both Judaism and Islam though I'm no expert and am open to contradiction. In Hinduism karma appears to be a complicating factor.  Suffering in this world of the seemingly innocent can be explained as the outworking of karma from previous lives.  A very handy get-out clause, you have to admit ... but don't place any reliance on my words, as they are gleaned from Wikipedia.  More research needed.

Another appendix. For a semi official one-page summary of the position of the Catholic Church, approved by the Archbishop of Perth, I can direct you to The Problem of Evil has been solved on the "Why Not Catholicism" website. In summary: Evil is the result of the abuse of free-will. Since evil now exists, God will use it to bring about a greater good. What about the agonising death of a child? Since God is Love, we can reasonably hope that His infinite justice and mercy will somehow compensate for the apparent harshness of the child's horrendous death. A Catholic sees not the problem of suffering but the meaning of it. When Jesus comes in glory the forces of evil will be definitively overcome. Follow the link for yourself if you don't want to take my word for it.

On Christmas trees and the Garden of Eden

Titian imagines Adam dissuading Eve from plucking another apple.
1570, Prado Museum, Madrid
I've retold the Adam and Eve tale as one of my children's stories.  

At a Christmas Eve night mass, where Martha was the little drummer boy in a nativity pageant, my eye was caught by a parish leaflet featuring a "prayer round the Christmas tree".  Having recently become curious about the history of Christmas trees, I read on, and was informed that the Christmas tree should remind us of the tree in the garden of paradise, a tree of wisdom and knowledge laden with every good thing, and god's gift to all human beings.

Huh?  What sort of theology is this?

Unless my memory deceives me, Adam and Eve were forbidden to eat from the tree of knowledge, and when they did, were slung out on their ear.  How is that god's gift to all human beings? Whoever wrote this church leaflet is trying a bit too hard methinks. Striving to gloss over the Christmas tree's history as a pre-existing pagan tradition sitting uneasily within Christianity  ...

… and warming to my theme, I could have written a nice little blog in this vein, but for the fact that some googling has revealed there's more to the history of Christmas trees than I knew.   I assumed them to have been part of Northern European culture for generations before the missionaries arrived, but it seems it's not as simple as that. So far as I can tell they're much more recent, around 1500, and come from Germany, in one region of which they used to be hung upside down.  Scandinavia not mentioned to my surprise. And Martin Luther seems to have had a hand in the matter.  I must get my ducks in a row (the first time I've used that expression and dare I hope the last) and write something more considered this time next year.

And lastly why are Christmas trees shaped like Christmas trees? They’ve evolved that way to let the snow slide off. More on Earthsky.org.

Of mosques and chimneys in the Algarve

We spent last week in Albufeira on the Algarve.  Not the place to go, according to the Rough Guide, if you're looking for unspoilt Portugal, but it has an archaeological museum of which more below. The image on the left is an ornament in the garden of our apartment block. It's a typical Algarve chimney, and if you look closely at the image on the right, the view from our balcony, you'll see several more, all inspired by Moorish design. Probably not in use, as none of them are sooted. 

But used or not, a remark by our tour guide Carlos led me enquire into the history of Jews and Muslims under Christian rule in Portugal. Pointing out these distinctive Algarve chimneys, Carlos told us they are descended from minarets which Muslims erected on their houses after the Christian reconquest when all the mosques were abolished. And their Christian neighbours were so impressed with these domestic minarets that they copied them, and over the course of time the minarets became chimneys. This tale had a dubious ring to it, and I checked it out with the archaeologist at the local museum, a helpful lad called Luís, who flatly contradicted it. It's a story favoured by anthropologists he told me, for which there is no archaeological evidence.  These Moorish chimneys first appear in the 18th century.

Nonetheless, all this set me wondering about the lives of Muslims immediately following the reconquest. Reconquest by the way is a highly loaded term but it's the cornerstone of Iberian historiography and usually capitalised as “Reconquista”.

My reason for disbelieving the story about minarets and chimneys was the implausibility of Muslims wishing to advertise their presence when their religion was banned and inquisitors were prowling around. But since coming home I've done a bit of digging and discovered that my reasoning was quite mistaken.

Iberia in 1147 (Wikipedia). No-one in 1147 would have predicted that by the 16th century Muslim rule would be finished and all the Christian kingdoms except for Portugal would be merged and called Espania. In this map The Algarve is still part of Almohad territory. It was conquered by the king of Portugal in 1250.

Because for at least 250 years there were no inquisitors. Religious pluralism was the rule. After the reconquest, Jewish and Muslim minorities of various sizes cohabited more or less peacefully alongside a dominant Christian population. Jews and Muslims were permitted to practise their faiths and live in autonomous communities under royal protection, provided that they paid discriminatory taxes and did not challenge the Catholic religion. All this I got from Google Books: The persecution of the Jews and Muslims of Portugal: King Manuel I and the end of religious tolerance (1496-7) by François Soyer, 2007.

This history of religious toleration under Christian rule was quite new to me and it set me wondering, during this time, where did the Muslims pray? Because the way I've heard it, as soon as the Christians conquered a city they converted all the mosques to churches.  

I've had a long email from François dealing with that question, but as I've probably gone on long enough, I'm going to put all that in a separate file so you can follow it up if you're interested. Other questions I've looked at are: how did they view mosque to church conversions, what distinctions were made during the period of religious pluralism between Jews and Muslims, and how did the regime compare to Christians and Jews under the previous Muslim rulers?

A final note about those chimneys. I've heard that identical chimneys, though perhaps less elaborate, exist in North Africa and Spain. And by the way if despite the Rough Guide you decide on Albufeira I can highly recommend the apartment - we'll probably go back next year. Look up Apartamentos Rainha D. Leonor.

The Stations - they'll miss it when it's gone

Everyone complains about the Stations. A common theme of conversation hereabouts is it's time they were abolished. I don't agree, but as a blow-in and a non-believer my views count for little. Twice a year on a weekday in March and October all the neighbours from 15 houses in this vicinity of North Cork gather at one house where the parish priest celebrates a mass, followed by sandwiches, cakes, tea and beer. This is known as a Station Mass, or more commonly, just "the stations". Three weeks ago it was our name on the rota, and consequently we spent much of the preceding month painting and cleaning. This is regarded as a huge pain and it's what gives rise to the calls for abolition. But to me it's a price worth paying. Some neighbours help with making sandwiches, some bring apple pies, and some bottles, and it's all very chummy. Mary brought the mass kit and dressed our dining table into an altar. An official church website advises that for this purpose the host family is meant to supply: a table cloth, two candles, a crucifix, holy water, and a small jug of tap water.

Clockwise from top left: making sandwiches in the utility room, dressing the altar, admiring the altar, the priest robes up, studying the prayer sheet, the priest hands out communion, an altar no more.

Including ourselves, 32 people were present. The priest turned up at 8, and heard confessions in the parlour, though few participated in this. The mass started about fifteen minutes later and  lasted about half an hour, whereupon envelopes were collected. These envelopes contain “dues”, money for the priest. €20 is the going rate. Up to only a few years ago, everyone’s name was read out and defaulters were noted, but that has lapsed. [1] The empty envelopes were handed round in the preceding couple of weeks. As host of the stations this time round, it was Eileen’s job to attend to this. 

The final agenda item was agreeing who hosts the stations next October. Then it was on with the kettles and out with the sandwiches.

A compromise without merit

Sadly the abolitionists will get their way. And I fear all too soon. Because it's really only the over-50’s who participate in all this. The younger families absent themselves, and gradually the pool of those able and willing to host the stations dwindles. A compromise in which I see no merit whatsoever is for the station mass to be held in the local church.  When the number willing to host the stations reduces to the level where your turn comes round every two years instead of every four, then I foresee that the last hardy few will say enough’s enough and the institution will suddenly die. And then everyone will say do you remember what great times we had when we used to have the stations.

A starched white cloth

In most houses round here after the mass the priest is ushered to a table in the parlour, with a starched white cloth, and it’s considered an honour to be asked to join him, while the remaining neighbours shift for themselves in the kitchen, or have to await the priest’s convenience for a second sitting. Up to the 1970’s, it was the men who joined the priest and the women who stayed in the kitchen.  I witnessed the tail-end of this tradition. I must have attended my first stations during the 1980’s, and I can recall once, and I think only once, being ushered in to join the priest for a cold plate along with all the men. Very uncomfortable, but this was already widely deemed old-fashioned. 

Being seated next to the priest is a dubious honour for most people who don't actually know what to say to him. Eileen and I frequently manoeuvre ourselves into the hot seats, which seems to be suit everyone;  though Eileen and our neighbour Sean place me under strict interdict against “haranguing”. How I've acquired a reputation for “haranguing” priests I'm at a loss to know. But in whatever this haranguing consists, it appears to cause remarkably little offence, if I can judge by the lack of reluctance to be sitting next to me on these occasions.

I remember a station mass soon after the 2011 general election.  Fr Michael Fitzgerald (since elevated to Canon) discussed the allocation of cabinet posts in the Fine Gael-Labour coalition government, and went on to comment that Labour was a bit too radical for him. At this point, had I not been under interdict, I should have hit him with the Jesus was a socialist theme. But I dutifully let it go.

A little bit of history

The stations seem to date from the 17th century and the Penal Laws. At that time in Ireland and up to about 1750, the Catholic church was oppressed and public ceremonies involving Catholic clergy were banned. Moreover there were no Catholic churches. In this climate two new traditions emerged: the Mass Rock and the Station Mass. I think it’s a matter of debate amongst historians how energetically the penal laws were enforced, but the popular image is of the priest arriving in disguise while locals kept a look-out from vantage points in the landscape on alert for any approaching English militia.

A modern reconstruction of an 18th century open-air mass with look-outs and approaching soldiers, reproduced here on a devotional card

The Irish countryside is peppered with mass rocks which are still considered by some to be special sacred places. An alternative mass venue was in private homes. Word was put about locally that mass would be said at a given house on a given day. The neighbours would gather for what was often a rare opportunity to receive the sacrament. This mass became known as the "station mass" because the venue was only temporary, one of the early meanings of the English word station.  And for all I know, of the Irish word stáisiún.  A discussion of etymology if you want it.

Lack of church buildings, as much as fear of persecution, may have driven open air and station masses.

Abolishing dinners

In the 19th century, the Catholic Church tried to regulate the stations, as well as some other aspects of popular Catholicism. A strange leap from persecution to control, which remains a puzzle to me. Some clerics thought the stations were just an excuse for partying, and would have abolished them altogether. James Doyle, Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin from 1819–1834, was influential. He saw the station dinner rather than the station itself as the main abuse, so the dinners were abolished, but stations allowed to continue. In 1843 the statutes of the Armagh diocese permitted stations but forbade the station dinner, the priest only being allowed to have a snack. [2] How far was this observed I wonder?

I understand that until the 1970’s, the station mass in our area was always held in the morning and was followed by breakfast for the priest and neighbours.

[1] Even further in the past, before my time, the actual amounts were read out. A farmer £10, a labourer £1, and so on. That I understand occurred up to the 1960’s and is now recalled with disgust.  It seems priests in those days were unfamiliar with the gospel story of the widow’s mite: witnessing temple donations made by rich men, Jesus calls attention to a poor widow contributing only two mites, and observes this was all she had, whilst the rich give only a small portion of their own wealth.  (Mark 12:41-44 and Luke 21:1-4)

[2] The Religious Condition of Ireland 1770-1850, Nigel Yates, Oxford 2006. Some day I shall read the 1843 statutes for myself to see if this means the priest alone being allowed to have a snack, and everyone else nothing at all.

Celebrating Isaac Newton's birthday

Which world changing person’s birth have you been celebrating today? On Christmas Day 1642 Isaac Newton was born. His work laid much of the foundation for our modern understanding of the universe by uncovering the force that keeps it together, and showing it’s the same as what makes an apple fall. He formulated what are known as Newton’s three Laws of Motion. He may have been the greatest scientist ever.

To divert you from the day’s excesses may I tempt you to Deborah Byrd’s Earth Sky blog where you'll find links to the laws of motion as well as Newton’s revelations about gravity.

But the most extraordinary revelation about Newton is this: that according to some, science wasn’t the biggest thing in his life. What was even more important to him was biblical textual criticism, in which he excelled, and his unitarian belief (no trinity) which he had to keep to himself, for fear of being expelled from Cambridge University.  A couple of years ago I attend a fascinating lecture on this.

Of atheists and foxholes

One day (but not today you'll be pleased to hear) I shall write my atheist manifesto.  Clause 1 of which will say there's little benefit, and scant prospect of success, in attempting to dissuade someone who believes in god from that belief.
 

War memorial dedicated to atheists in foxholes

Here I'll just comment on the atheists in foxholes story. It seems a US airforce chaplain has got into hot water for claiming there are none - atheists in foxholes that is. I suppose the hot water flows from the famed separation of church and state mandated by the American constitution [1]. Though this doesn't seem to have inhibited President Dwight D. Eisenhower when he popularised the idea that there are no atheists in foxholes in a 1954 broadcast [2]. But I must get to my point. Simon Singh responded to the airforce chaplain story by tweeting that “no atheists in foxholes” is nonsense, since typically there are foxes in foxholes, and foxes have no organised belief system. But though Singh is a hero of mine, his witticism misses the mark. The proponents of the aphorism (my friend Noel is one, frequently quoting it at me presuming thereby to put a stop to my gallop) mean, I suppose, that when facing an extreme threat, such as soldiers under fire, people habitually seek a divine power. This may be the case, or it may not.   The Freedom From Religion Foundation in the US doesn't believe so, for in the hope that humankind may learn to avoid all war, they have erected a monument in memory of “ATHEISTS IN FOXHOLES and the countless FREETHINKERS who have served this country with honor and distinction”. [3]
 
But let us for the sake of argument concede that in a foxhole under fire everyone including me will indeed seek a divine power. The question is, would this be evidence

(a)    for the existence of a divine power? or

(b)    for divine power being a figment of the human imagination, called forth by the stress of living in a frightening world?
 
How you answer that one will depend on what you believe about god in the first place; which leads me back to clause 1.

[1] The separation phrase doesn't actually appear in the US constitution but has been used repeatedly by the Supreme Court.

[2] Eisenhower broadcast cited in the Wikipedia entry “There are no atheists in foxholes”

[3] A parallel organisation, the Military Association of Atheists and Freethinkers provides a community for atheists, humanists, and other nontheists in the military, and has something to say about atheists in foxholes on its website.

I hold Luther's Bible in my hands

Today in the British Library at St Pancras I held in my very hands one of the world's great books: Martin Luther’s original 1534 translation of the Bible into German. Two enormous tomes, clearly designed as lecturn bibles to be read in churches. I was allowed to take them away to a desk and leaf through them at my leisure. The frontispiece and several illustrations were hand coloured as were the leading capitals of each chapter. Very fresh. Like illuminated manuscripts. Which so far as I know were still being made in those days, and I imagine that still in 1534 a printed book would be estimated by some with the disdain that we today might reserve for a photocopy.

Martin Luther’s 1534 bible: chapter 1 of Genesis (“Das Erst Buch Mose”, the First Book of Moses). The illustration is God creating the world, with a naked Adam and Eve in the centre, but the quality of this image falls far short of the brilliant crispness I held in my hands this afternoon.

The strange thing is, this happened unintentionally. All I desired was a copy of the text of Luther’s bible; the Penguin edition would have sufficed; but I couldn’t work out from the catalogue how to order it so I made a wild stab at Biblia, das ist, die gantze Heilige Schrifft Deudsch and 70 minutes later, as is the protocol, I was issued with this treasure.

My mission by the way was to see whether Luther in the book of Acts had perpetrated a deliberate misquotation from a Psalm and introduced the word bishop.  So far as my limited German tells me, he did. Why this is important or even mildly interesting will have to wait another day …

Martin Luther painted by Lukas Cranach, 1529

Of Easter, Påsk and a pagan goddess

Today an Easter greeting from my aunt Kerstin prompted me to look into something I've long idly wondered about, and that’s why the Swedish for Easter is Påsk (pronounced Posk).  I was led to the following information from Wikipedia.  The 8th century English scholar Bede, describing the state of affairs in England a couple of hundred years before his own day, stated that the Anglo-Saxon word for April was Easter Month (Ēosturmōnath) during which feasts were held in honour of the goddess Ēostre. All this had died out by Bede’s time, replaced by the Christian "Paschal month". 

Left: A stained glass window from Germany depicting the Passover Lamb, a concept integral to the foundation of Easter. The inscription reads Osterlam. Pötting parish church of the Holy Cross.
Right: Bede was a priest and monk in the town of Jarrow in England who died in 735, often called the greatest scholar of his time in the Western Church. From a psalter in the British Library.

Paschal (which I suppose I ought to have known already but didn't) means pertaining to Easter or Passover, as in Paschal lamb and Paschal candle - an exceptionally large candle lit in church today (Holy Saturday) and kept on the altar till Ascension Day.  And Paschaltide it turns out is a period in the liturgical calendar, between Easter and Pentecost. 

The word Paschal is derived from the Hebrew word for Passover, Pesach.  The dates of the two festivals, Easter and Passover, normally coincide within five or fewer days, but about every tenth year they go adrift by a whole month. There's a long history of debates as to how Easter should be calculated which I won’t go into here.

What about Easter in other European languages? In the Romance and Celtic languages, as in the Scandinavian languages, it's derived from Hebrew (French Pâques, Italian Pasqua, Irish Cáisc [1]). But in German it's Ostern, the same root as English.

The goddess Ēostre is a form of the widely attested Indo-European dawn goddess (hence East), and there are theories connecting Ēostre with records of Germanic Easter customs including hares and eggs.

An invention of Bede's?

Here's a curious note to end on. The evidence for the Anglo-Saxon goddess whose name gives rise to "Easter" has not, it seems, been universally accepted, and some scholars have proposed that Ēostre may have meant "the month of opening" or that the name Easter may have arisen from the designation of Easter Week in Latin as in albis. (Not quite sure how you get from in albis to Easter.)

It's even possible it was Bede who invented the Anglo-Saxon goddess Ēostre.  But whether he did or didn't, it seems odd that the English church should have chosen the name Easter, thereby connecting their principal festival with either a pagan goddess or a supposed pagan goddess.

My £10 donation to Wikipedia last month was money well spent, but there's more to find out yet.

[1] “Cáisc” (Irish for Easter) is, despite appearances, related to Latin “Pascha” and Hebrew “Pesach”.  That confusing initial “C” in place of “P” occurs because Irish is a q-Celtic language, and tends to have a “c” sound where Latin-derived words have a p-sound.

Is Francis the first non-European pope in 1000 years?

A postcard available in all leftwing bookshops, with the words of Brazilian archbishop Dom Hélder Câmara, a proponent of liberation theology.  George Monbiot quoted them last week in The Guardian to expose what he calls one of the great fissures in the Catholic church, and the emptiness of the Pope Francis's claim to be on the side of the poor. 

If you're tempted to dismiss the Catholic Church and what goes on inside it as irrelevant, read Monbiot’s article.  On Irish radio the other day a panellist suggested Francis may soon surprise us, and regrets his inglorious role in face of the 1976-1983 dictatorship in Argentina. (See good and bad things they say about him.) I doubt it, but we'll see.

Non-European Pope

Argentina suggests a little digression. In the past couple of weeks countless media columns have observed that Pope Francis is a first in many ways, and the first of these firsts is invariably that he's the first non-European pope in 1,272 years.  A statement based on the year 741 being when Pope Gregory III, born in Syria, ended his 10-year reign. 

Now the question I pose is: back in the year 741, was Syria in fact outside Europe?

And I have to reply no. For the concept of Europe didn't yet exist. I can draw a parallel. I could say that in 1966 Angela Rippon became Britain's first female newsreader in 200 years. A true statement in a way, but pointless, since in 1766 there were no newsreaders, male nor female.

Likewise in 741 there were neither Europeans, nor non-Europeans.  So what was there? What idea in 741 did the intelligentsia carry in their heads that most nearly answers what we think of when we think of Europe?

Non-European popes Francis & Gregory III

The question calls for a whole essay on what we think of when we think of Europe, which I'll spare you, and get straight to the point.  About a century before 741, the answer would have been quite clear: the Roman Empire. Meaning primarily all the lands bordering the Mediterranean.  However by 741 the idea of the Roman Empire was somewhat frayed. Syria, one of the empire’s richest provinces, was now in Arab hands.  I wonder though, in 741 was it yet obvious that this was destined to be a permanent state of affairs?  I think the idea of Christendom was taking over. This is a hard concept to pin down. It meant the community of all Christians; and maybe (I'm less sure of this) carried a vague geographical dimension. In 741, according to my understanding, the majority of Syrians would still have been Christians, even though the ruling élite were Muslims.

So back to the original question. I think the statement that Francis is the first non-European pope since 741 is at best pointless. And at worst it's misleading, because Syria was part of Christendom, indeed one could almost say at the heart of Christendom. And a bishop from there could not remotely have been described as a non-anything, in the way that Francis is described as non-European.

These thoughts are tentative. I hope some historian will read this and put me right. Late antiquity and the early middle ages are a fascinating period to me. I've just started a book recommended by my friend Chris, The Inheritance of Rome: A History of Europe from 400 to 1000 (2009) by Chris Wickham. In his introduction he says that even by the end of his period, Europe was not yet born. That's what set me thinking about this first non-European pope business.

New Pope: good and bad things they say about him

Here's the best thing I've found about Cardinal Bergoglio, the new pope. During a 48-hour public service strike in Buenos Aires, he called attention to the differences between "poor people who are persecuted for demanding work, and rich people who are applauded for fleeing from justice.”  Also he took the bus to work in Argentina instead of his official limo.

And this: In an address to his priests he said: “In our ecclesiastical region there are priests who don’t baptise the children of single mothers because they weren’t conceived in the sanctity of marriage … These are today’s hypocrites. Those who clericalise the Church. Those who separate the people of God from salvation. And this poor girl who, rather than returning the child to sender, had the courage to carry it into the world, must wander from parish to parish so that it’s baptised!”

Left, Pope Francis. Right, Argentine President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner in 2010, next to a portrait of Yves Domergue, one of the disappeared of the 1976-1983 Argentine dictatorship.

The worst thing said of him is that he was criticized by the Jesuits for his behaviour during the 1976-1983 dictatorship in Argentina.  During the period of the dictatorship, the Catholic Church failed to confront the regime, even as it was kidnapping and killing thousands; for which the church eventually last October, issued a blanket apology.

The Jesuits are Bergoglio’s own order, so there’s a story in there that we’ll be reading about soon.

I've seen disparate accounts of his relationship to liberation theology - something else to keep on eye on in the coming days. Liberation theology is described by proponents as "an interpretation of Christian faith through the poor's suffering, their struggle and hope, and a critique of society and the Catholic faith and Christianity through the eyes of the poor". Detractors dub it Christianized Marxism. Hurrah.

And Bergoglio tried but failed, by outspoken criticism of president Cristina Kirchner, to stop her enacting socially liberal measures including gay marriage and free contraceptives for all.

Some church optimists expected that celibacy, female ordination, same-sex marriage, the handling of clergy sexual abuse revelations, will all be up for discussion under a new pope. From what little I've seen in the past couple of hours, I doubt they're still optimistic tonight. And will dissident Irish priest Fr Tony Flannery, now be hopeful of reinstatement?

The foregoing are some of the things I'll be keeping an eye on in the coming days and weeks.

My sources on Pope Francis:

• Wikipedia
• Think Progress
• Irish Times profile

Is Benedict resignation the Catholic Church's Obama moment?

Benedict XVI’s surprise resignation on Monday has rekindled a worldwide Catholic conversation that effectively stopped when he was elected Pope 8 years ago, according to NPR journalist Liz Halloran in a piece headed Pope's Resignation Redefines Papacy, Spurs Talk Of 'Global South' Successor.

Celibacy, female ordination, same-sex marriage, the handling of clergy sexual abuse revelations, are all up for discussion, in the view of some optimists.  Contraception too I wonder though this isn't included in the list.  All this is unexpected to me, as the college of cardinals has been stuffed with hand-picked conservatives ever since John Paul II's succession in 1978. But the commentators quoted by NPR know what they’re talking about, so we’ll see.

Left, John Paul II in 1997 (pope 1978-2005). Centre, white smoke from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel announces the election on April 19, 2005 of Joseph Ratzinger as Pope Benedict XVI (right, photographed on Monday)

David Gibson, who has covered the Vatican since the 1980’s and is author of The Rule of Benedict: Pope Benedict XVI and His Battle with the Modern World is quoted as saying "It's the Catholic Church's Obama moment".

Dennis Coday, editor of the National Catholic Reporter, welcomes the prospect of change and more open discussions with a new pope: "The next pope needs to address these issues, which aren't just American issues". He says under Benedict XVI all discussion has been shut down, but "We're saying that it cannot be a closed discussion anymore — and it's not just our paper saying that."

Change without changing
 
All religious institutions have to change with the world, but if their declared mission is to proclaim the unchanging word of God, how do they fulfil this and still adapt? It's a tough row to hoe, one that was started with Second Vatican Council in the 1960’s, but was soon abandoned. There may be hope for Fr Flannery yet.

Benedict's resignation takes effect at the end of this month. The conclave to elect his successor will certainly be before 15th March, perhaps earlier.

Priest 'Jesus didn't exist' shock

I don't often copy a Sun headline but today I'll make an exception. For unless you read the Irish Sun you'll have missed this one entirely.

Hot on the heels of the Father Flannery affair (silenced for denying the priesthood) comes the next strange story involving an Irish priest. Now it's the turn of Fr Thomas Brodie, who has taken unorthodoxy a step further by suggesting that Jesus never existed, and has resigned as director of the Dominican Biblical Institute in Limerick, which he helped set up. Whether voluntarily or otherwise, isn't clear.

Irish Sun 21 Jan 2013. Left hand column: Fr Flannery story. Main story: Fr Brodie. The headline is a play on John 11:25 "I am the resurrection and the life.” In British editions the headline was “Pulpit Fiction”

This story appeared in the Irish Sun but nowhere else in mainstream media, except a single mention on RTÉ radio that morning at 6:15. 

I have to say that until I read the Sun’s story I had never heard of Thomas Brodie. But now that I've looked him up I see he is widely described as a renowned biblical historian and New Testament expert.  And amongst New Testament scholars he caused something of a sensation last October when he published his book describing how he came to the view that Jesus never existed: Beyond the Quest for the Historical Jesus: Memoir of a Discovery (cover illustrated below). A book I was quite unaware of, as I've never seen it reviewed. I've written to the Irish Catholic to complain about this silence, so we'll see where that leads. It has however been big in the blogs that concern themselves with New Testament studies.

It needs saying that there's nothing new about suggesting Jesus didn't exist, as this Wikipedia article attests. But until this week I used to regard the denial of the historical Jesus as the work of cranks and amateurs. Clearly this is now no longer the case.

By the way it turns out there is something called HJ studies. Amongst aficionados that’s shorthand for Historical Jesus studies.

Fr Tom Brodie and his book.
Portrait from Irish Catholic April 10 2014

Adaptations of other literary works

New Testament scholars routinely assume that the Gospels reflect oral traditions that go back to Jesus. Tom Brodie, it seems, argues there is no case for making this assumption: the gospels are adaptations of other literary works according to him, borrowing extensively from the Hebrew bible, other Jewish writings and in some cases (like the virgin birth) Greek mythology.

To suggest that the gospels rely heavily on these literary sources isn't new in itself.  Biblical scholars have long accepted this.

The standard line on the gospels (as I understand it) is yes, a bit of mythology has crept in, and quite a lot of fixing the facts to accord with Old Testament prophesies; but you can peel all that away and underneath there's a real historical Jesus who lived, preached, was executed by the Romans, and started a new religious movement. During his lifetime and after his death, stories circulated about him orally, and after a period, perhaps 40 years, perhaps more, perhaps less, these stories got written down, mixed in with other stuff. New Testament scholars try to work out which are the most accurate versions of the stories, and what the other stuff is.

Fr Brodie is saying no, the gospels are other stuff from start to finish. This is known as the ahistoricity of Jesus.  Note that what's really new is that a respected bible scholar and a priest should say this. That’s what justifies the headline I've used today.

Here are three blogs I've consulted:

(1) The Way Out There.  This is by a Church of Ireland (Anglican) priest. He can't see why one would wish to remain a Christian, much less a priest, while believing in the ahistoricity of Jesus. “It is beyond me how one could do so while questioning the very existence of the founder of our Church.”  This is an interesting question. Maybe it's the football supporter analogy I toyed with in my post about Tony Flannery. Or maybe Brodie finds quite as much inspiration for a religious life in a myth as in an historical personage.

(2) Dr Richard Carrier - a professional historian and published philosopher who claims to be a prominent defender of the American freethought movement, and a world-renowned author and speaker. Writing of his initial reaction to Brodie coming out as a Jesus mythicist, he says the book is a “huge development”. “There is still, certainly, a litany of crank and amateur mythicist nonsense. But there is also a serious case to be made, by serious and well-qualified scholars.” Later he reviewed Brodie’s book, and while he thinks Brodie’s case is invalid, the fact that a scholar of such standing is a proponent of ahistoricity adds to its respectability. I can’t give links because as at April 2018 his blog appears to be deleted.
 
(3) Vridar (a pen-name) who was expelled by his church (unsure which, not Catholic) for going public with critical questioning. He's in full agreement with Brodie.

Subsequent note, October 2015

In March 2014, an international church commission found that Fr Tom Brodie’s work was “imprudent and dangerous for the faithful”, and the Master of the Dominican Order, Fr Bruno Cadoré confirmed that the sanctions already imposed by the Irish Province should remain in place. Not sure what these sanctions were. Possibly just to be sacked from his position as director of the Dominican Biblical Institute. There was a question of him being dismissed from the order, but I don't know if that was ever proceeded with. The biblical institute was wound up in 2015. This information comes from the The Irish Catholic 10 April 2014 & 15 October 2015.

Brodie for his part claimed his book aims to “develop a new vision of Jesus as an icon of God’s presence in the world and in human history”.

Daddy what's a Protestant?

Soon I need to write a piece under the headline “Priest in Jesus didn't exist shock”.

But first, here's a Catholic joke. Daddy, what's the difference between a Catholic and a Protestant? Well, Catholics believe the bread and wine are transformed into the actual body and blood of Christ, and Protestants think the bread and wine are just symbols to remind us of the Last Supper. Pause. Daddy, I think I'm a Protestant.

Like all good jokes it contains a germ of truth. And the truth here is that in my experience a large proportion of Irish Catholics are actually protestants. They don't believe in the bread and wine stuff, they don't believe the Pope is infallible (actually Papal infallibility is a huge subject which few people understand and I'm not one of them but my point is that understand it or not, many Catholics don't believe in it), they think there's a lot to be said for women priests, and that banning contraception is downright crazy. 

But they remain Catholics all the same. Disparaged as à la carte Catholics by some. Good Catholics according to themselves.

Sacerdotal malcontents 

Which brings me the Association of Catholic Priests (ACP). Hundreds of Catholic priests in Ireland - dissident priests you might call them - have joined. 
 

Left, malcontents arrive for an ACP meeting. Right, Fr Tony Flannery an Irish priest suspended by the Vatican

There have been many readers’ letters in the Irish Catholic, some in favour of this new association, but mainly against.  A letter printed on 15 November 2012, called these priests “a variegated group of sacerdotal malcontents and attention seekers the Irish Catholic Church could well do without.  If they can't or won't accept the Church's magisterial teaching, why don't they just leave it?  The Church is neither an elected assembly, nor a debating society.  Let them form their own somewhere else!”

Even without accepting the letter writer’s point of view you can ask, well, why don't they?

And the only answer I can think of is, there must be a lot of sociology involved. 

Priesthood didn't originate with Jesus

And now to the Father Flannery affair. He is one of the founders of the ACP and is threatened with excommunication. The church denies this but yesterday's Irish Times ran a story Vatican threatened to excommunicate priest, documents confirm.
 
On Monday this week, Fr Tony Flannery had a prominent comment piece in the Irish Times under the headline Vatican's demand for silence is too high a price, condemning authoritarianism in the church. Fr Flannery said the Vatican wanted him specifically to recant statements he has made. What are these exactly? Well he thinks that women priests is a subject that ought to be discussed, and holds unorthodox views on contraception and homosexuality.

But here's the big one. Fr Flannery no longer believes that “the priesthood as we currently have it in the church originated with Jesus” or that Jesus designated “a special group of his followers as priests.”  Instead, he wrote, “It is more likely that some time after Jesus, a select and privileged group within the community who had arrogated power and authority to themselves, interpreted the occasion of the Last Supper in a manner that suited their own agenda.”

These quotes are from an article published in 2010 in Reality, an Irish religious magazine.

Being Catholic is central to my identity

To which the only response is hurrah you tell ‘em Tony. The man’s a protestant. Those words of his are pure, core, protestantism.  And you can hardly blame the Vatican wanting him to recant the statement, and affirm that Christ instituted the church with a permanent hierarchical structure and that bishops are divinely established successors to the apostles.

But my main point is not what I think or the Vatican thinks but what Fr Flannery thinks. And he wants to stay in the Catholic Church.

In his Irish Times statement, linked above, he says he can't give up on freedom of thought, freedom of speech and most especially freedom of conscience; moreover he knows people will say he should leave the Catholic Church and join another Christian church, one more suitable to his stance ... nonetheless: “Being a Catholic is central to my personal identity.”