The Notebook
I was watching the Late Late Show in the company of two of my colleagues when the exit poll results were announced. To be honest we were shell-shocked. I woke up on Saturday morning totally depressed and wondering do I really have a place in this country, this Church, this community any more. Like many of my colleagues I had tried to articulate my views on the Eighth Amendment at masses the previous weekend.
I had tried to be sensitive by giving people two weeks’ notice of my intention to address the issue and then waited until the end of mass to speak so that those who were uncomfortable for whatever reason could leave.
Ethical issue
There is no other ethical issue I feel more strongly about than the right to life of the unborn boy and girl. I had tried very hard to come to a greater understanding of those who sincerely advocated a ‘Yes’ vote. I knew that there were people within my parish, within my own family and circle of friends who were with varying degrees of certainty going to vote ‘Yes’. Even with that knowledge I was still devastated by the scale of the result.
In the days since the referendum I have really struggled to come to terms with so many aspects. The scenes of rejoicing from the courtyard of Dublin Castle left me cold, saddened and angry. I was reminded of other courtyards like the one outside Pontius Pilate’s house in Jerusalem as the crowds shouted “crucify him, crucify him”.
But despite the wide range of emotions I think I may be slowly coming to an understanding of how and why this happened.
The overwhelming result in the referendum has forced me to realise that this outcome has very deep roots. Yes, the presenting issue was abortion and the rights of women to have choices about their pregnancies, but I now believe it was also about much more than that.
In the collective psyche of generations of many Irish women there is a vivid memory of appalling disrespect, inequality and in many cases downright abuse in every understanding of that word.
Over the years, names like Philomena Lee, Ann Lovett, Miss X, Miss Y, the Magdalenes and so many more forced us to shine a painful light into our past. I now realise that these women and many more whose stories they reflected came down the generations to create the tsunami of silent and not so silent ‘Yes’ voters on May 25. I just wish we as a society could have found some other way to correct the injustices and inequalities of the past that did not involve stripping vulnerable unborn boys and girls of their basic right to life.
These words from the Book of Lamentations have reflected my mood in these days and helped me to pray…
My soul is shut out from peace;
I have forgotten happiness.
And now I say, My strength is gone
that hope which came from the Lord.
Brooding on my anguish and affliction
is gall and wormwood.
My spirit ponders it continually
and sinks within me
This is what I shall tell my heart,
and so recover hope:
the favours of the Lord are not all past,
his kindnesses are not exhausted;
every morning they are renewed;
great is his faithfulness.
My portion is the Lord says my soul
and so I will hope in him.
The Lord is good to those who trust him,
to the soul that searches for him.
It is good to wait in silence for the Lord to save
Bobby’s First Communion
Bobby asked his mother for a red bike for his First Communion. His mother asked him to write a letter to Jesus about his request. Bobby went up to his room and began to write his letter:
Dear Jesus, I have been a very good boy this past year and for my First Communion I would like a bike, a red bike – from Bobby.
Bobby knew this wasn’t true and so, feeling a little guilty, he crumbled up the letter and began a new one:
Dear Jesus, I have not been the best boy this past year but I promise to be better if I can have a bike – a red bike – from Bobby.
Now Bobby felt pretty bad because he knew he had not been a good boy but he still wanted it very much. So, he went downstairs and asked his mother if he could visit the church on his own.
The mother was so happy to let him go because she thought that Bobby might want to go and pray to Jesus for forgiveness.
Bobby ran down to the church, looked around him and saw a statue of Mary.
He grabbed the statue and ran out of the Church. Back at home with the statue locked in his wardrobe Bobby began another letter: Dear Jesus – I have stolen your mother. If you ever want to see her again send me the bike, make it a red one! – From you-know-who.