Michael Kelly
Ellen’s Coyne journey through faith could have been gripping – unfortunately it ended up confirming her pre-existing beliefs writes Michael Kelly
I was 17-years-old in 1996 when then finance minister Ruairi Quinn referred to Ireland as what he described as a “post-Catholic, pluralist republic”.
The comments provoked controversy at the time with many people asking whether this meant that modern Ireland – with a new-found prosperity that had long eluded the State – was becoming a cold house for Catholics and, by extension, all people of faith.
For my entire adult life, the Church in Ireland has been in crisis”
It was not yet 20 years since the triumphant visit of Pope John Paul II in 1979 during which he had referred to the Irish as semper fidelis – always faithful. At the time, many people took it as a pat on the back that as secularism and indifference raged across the western world Ireland stood virtually alone in defence of the ancient faith. But, the Slavic Pope was a prophet. His words at Shannon Airport that misty morning must be read in the context of his remarks the day beforehand in Limerick where he warned of the tide that would soon reach Ireland’s shores. Semper fidelis was not so much an act of praise but an appeal to remain faithful to the light of Christ brought by St Patrick.
For my entire adult life, the Church in Ireland has been in crisis. Names such as Eamonn Casey and Brendan Smyth have become bywords for the failure to protect people and the consequent humiliation of the institutional Church and the loss of the spontaneous faith of so many Irish people.
In 1997, as scandal raged, Mary Kenny on this parish published Goodbye to Catholic Ireland: How the Irish Lost the Civilisation They Created. It remains a masterpiece that has survived the test of time. In her book, Mary sketched a nuanced version of 20th Century Irish Catholicism that avoided both the extremes of triumphalism and the tendency to judge the past as an appalling period with nothing redeeming. In so doing, she paints a fair picture of what made traditional Irish Catholicism both admirable and reprehensible.
Church
The latest attempt to situate the Church in contemporary Ireland Are you there, God? It’s me, Ellen by the eponymous Ellen Coyne lacks the insight or experience of earlier works.
Ms Coyne is no Mary Kenny, but in fairness the book claims only to be a personal reflection on a journey of sorts rather than anything agenda-setting. Readers taken in by such blurbs as “this is a book the Church doesn’t know it needs for its own survival…why is this woman not the Pope?” (journalist Justine McCarthy) will be sorely disappointed. The publishers also highlight the views of novelist Louise O’Neill on the cover predicting that Ms Coyne’s musings will “inspire a thousand conversations across Ireland about the role of the Church in our society and our future”.
Having read Ms Coyne’s book in one sitting I think it is a missed opportunity.
I came to this with an open mind expecting that there might be some insightful commentary that could be useful for the Church in engaging with contemporary Irish culture and helping build a bridge of dialogue. What one gets, instead, is somewhat of a ‘come out with your hands up’ approach to the Church where – for Ms Coyne – for Catholicism to retain any meaning it must be stripped of what is essentially Catholic.
It’s hard to step away from the abortion issue since this is a dominant theme, but there is a lot more here”
There are lazy caricatures aplenty. Where there are elements of the Faith that Ms Coyne disagrees with, these are predictably described as “Vatican hardlines” rather than the sincere articulation of the Catholic Faith.
A constant in the book is the campaign to repeal the Eighth Amendment from the Constitution, Ms Coyne having cut her journalistic teeth writing for the short-lived Rupert Murdoch venture The Times Ireland Edition. Despite that vote passing by a margin of 2-1, there is little sense of graciousness in victory in the book (amongst other things, pro-lifers – the author prefers anti-abortion – are dismissed as being very Catholic but not very Christian).
It’s very disappointing that Ms Coyne appears to be making a plea for a Church where all God’s creatures have a place in the choir, but she appears so uncomfortable with encountering orthodox Catholics. Perhaps it’s a danger we all fall into – to imagine a Church made up only of people like us. Still, she has chosen to stay and engage rather than simply walk away.
Ms Coyne – perhaps without even knowing it – articulates a very real problem for the Church: whether Catholicism is defined by the actual Faith, or what people who call themselves Catholic actually do.
The right to life
Recalling the jubilant scenes that greeted the removal of the right to life of the unborn in 2018, Ms Coyne writes: “Me and a few other reporters stumbled into a pub across the road. Later on, a few drinks in, someone was holding court. ‘This isn’t a Catholic country anymore,’ they said. Oh, but it is, I thought. This is the most Catholic thing we’ve done in ages”.
This muddled thinking should provide much food for thought for Church leaders scratching their heard about the failures of teaching and conscience-forming that led many Mass-going Catholics to believe that stripping the unborn of the right to life was the Catholic thing to do.
It’s hard to step away from the abortion issue since this is a dominant theme, but there is a lot more here. No-one can doubt the sincerity of the journey in search of her childhood faith that Ms Coyne has embarked upon. One wonders, however, whether she might’ve been better served in that journey if the guides she chose along the way were not people who she found it so easy to agree with. Faith should, after all, be a challenge not a confirmation of the biases we already hold.
In this, she is not the first whose plea for a ‘listening Church’ is for a Church that listens to them more”
The author writes movingly about her decision to leave the Church when she felt overwhelmed with negative news about Catholicism (and there has been, sadly, lots of that). She is insightful in her dawning realisation that it is not so much that the Church is missing out on her, but the absent Catholic who is missing out of the beauty and ritual that the Faith has to offer. “It also means losing a layer of beauty in the world. Everything is in lower definition – to me anyway – when you can’t see God in things like nature of other people’s kindness. Worst of all, it means losing the invaluable comfort of knowing it’s not the end when somebody dies”.
It’s a heartfelt honesty that will also resonate with many people who have long since convinced themselves that the Church is part of their past.
Overall, one gets the distinct impression that every time Ms Coyne has been met with the challenge of whether she is right of Church teaching is right, she has always resolved the dilemma in her favour. The book – and indeed, one has the impression, the author – would benefit from an understanding of what is actually meant by conscience. Towards the end she writes, for example, “you cannot raise people with Catholic values, teach them about Catholic beliefs and give them everything they need to be guided by their own conscience only to turn around and tell them they’re wrong when what they’re saying doesn’t suit you”. It would be naïve in the extreme to imagine that everyone who is brought up as a Catholic has the tools to always act correctly – it’s certainly not borne out by history.
Let’s hope this book is the first step on a longer journey”
Overall this book leaves me unsatisfied, it is as if the author dipped her toes in a vast and exciting ocean but quickly retreated to more familiar and shallower waters as the depth appeared riskier. But, there is no faith without doubt and this involves risk. Ms Coyne appears to have come to the conclusion that if the Church is to have a credible future, it must become more like her rather than more authentically itself. In this, she is not the first whose plea for a ‘listening Church’ is for a Church that listens to them more. At the same time, I cannot doubt or take away from the journey that the author finds herself on: “I have chosen this. I’ve made an active decision about my faith and made it something that I want to have rather than something I was simply born with”. In an age where the world is crying out for intentional disciples, the choice to engage in some deeper thought is a welcome one. Undoubtedly it would have been greatly enhanced by a more challenging mentor or guide. Let’s hope this book is the first step on a longer journey – perhaps it’s fairer to see it as a contribution to a dialogue rather than a conclusion.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Ellen by Ellen Coyne is published by Gill.