Through Christ’s compassion and radicalism, the Irish Church can speak to young people, writes David O’Donoghue
David O’Donoghue
I have recently begun the difficult process of coming out. The most arduous task, surprisingly, was admitting it to myself. But what has shocked me even more has been the response I was met with in the liberal and tolerant environment of the Irish university scene. Derision and incredulousness have been the most frequent responses, followed by a begrudging acceptance with a chuckle and a smirk.
This, of course, has nothing to do with revealing any kind of truth about my sexual orientation, but rather of my religious inclination. That I have a sense of spirituality at all seems to shock anyone below the age of 35 and that my leanings should be primarily toward the message of Christ seems to leave many flabbergasted. To be young, educated and liberal in Ireland, and also to feel warmly toward the Christian faith, is taken as an aberration.
Profession
Like most of the people in this nation, I was raised a Catholic. My youth was the usual profession of Baptism, Communion and Confirmation. But by the time of my Confirmation I began to question the Faith I was raised in and found it severely wanting, sticking with the sacraments mostly out of a desire for the Confirmation money that would let me buy the video games that were closer to my spiritual satisfaction than any gospel or epistle.
But having spent much of my teenage years tasting from a smorgasbord of religious offering, delighting in the tastes and textures of world religions from Hinduism to Islam, since the college experience has started I have been surprised to find myself settling back into my spiritual starter course.
I have found comfort and elation in the words and teachings of Christ as well as rapture and awe in the cadences of the Old Testament stories. Teachings, tales and traditions that once seemed stale have gained a new fullness and freshness for me.
But as young people leave the Church in their droves, what can Irish Christianity do to save itself in the minds of the young? In my view, it all comes down to embracing two Christs. The dual nature of Christ has been Christianity’s eternal family dinner table argument since its founding. Is he human, divine or a bit of both?
But it’s not those two Christs that I consider most engaging and wondrous, but rather two different facets of Christ that I feel are more relevant to the modern world and more relevant to the faith of the young: The Christ of cheek turning and the Christ of table turning.
Cheek turning
One of the most beautiful things about re-engaging with the Gospels is seeing the manner in which Scripture has spilled into our everyday speech. How many pacifistic leaders, such as Martin Luther King, have called on us to “turn the other cheek”, echoing Christ’s pacifism and love for one’s enemies.
It is this superhuman level of abundant love that always captures me about Christ. His love is absolute and never-ending, he rejects neither the Samaritan nor the sinner, but sees the good and potential in all human beings.
It is this gospel of radical and eternal love that the Faith must focus on if it wishes to make itself relevant again. In a world dominated by the glorification of strength, wealth and power, followers of Christ must preach the beauty in pacifism and abiding love as a force of unity, courage and co-operation.
We must proclaim, as Corinthians says, that his “power is made perfect in weakness” so that compassion and gentleness may be the mark of the Church.
Table turning
While abundant spiritual love can seem dynamic and awesome in a materialistic society, it can also seem farfetched and detached. Following Christ necessitates making divine love materially tangible and a visible source of advocacy and change.
The other Christ, who has been neglected in many developed countries, is the Christ who stormed the temple in fury, turning over the tables of the moneychangers who made a scared space into a place of greed. Christians must not forget Christ’s radicalism and willingness to challenge established hierarchies and power structures, especially when doing so in favour of the rights of the meek.
Pope Francis and the Latin American Catholic culture from which he emerged, has much to teach us in this regard. It is plain to see how Francis has captured the minds and hearts of even the most disillusioned. His mendicant message and courage calls to mind both St Francis and Christ, who were never props or pillars for power but rather harsh critics of economic and social injustice who challenged the powerful with the witness and mission of their lives.
It is in the admiration and reconciliation of these two Christ’s, one of pacifism and one of protest, that I find my love for the Christian message. And it is these two Christs that the Church must project if it wishes to remain relevant to young Irish people in the future.
David O'Donoghue is a journalism student from Co. Kerry.