Mrs May’s exercise in hypocrisy

There are many things I like about Theresa May. She has great stamina and determination. She has the ability to bounce back after repeated humiliation. She is a woman of faith who takes her Christian convictions seriously. She is a politician serious about politics.

But one thing I cannot understand, and never will, is how she could change her mind on a fundamental principle literally overnight and then fight will all her might for the very opposite of what she claimed to believe before. She campaigned as a Remainer, though not a vociferous one. She argued that Britain should be at the heart of Europe, that the claims made by the Brexiteers were wrong. But as soon as Cameron left Downing St for life in a hut in his back garden, she grasped the Tory leadership by repeating over and over “Brexit means Brexit.” She became a convinced Brexiteer, one of their loudest cheerleaders.

I understand the nature of politics and that one must sometimes sacrifice conviction in the interests of ambition. But I don’t know how one could do so on an issue as vital as Brexit. It is to go from advocating one point of view to then championing its very opposite. It would be like me becoming an advocate of the Tridentine Mass after long being a supporter of women’s ordination (if I was angling for a bishopric). It would be an act of hypocrisy or duplicity. If I believe something strongly enough, if I believe it with all my heart and soul, then I could never become a champion of the opposite position, even if a majority of electors agreed with opposite the position, even if it would be in my personal interests to do so.

If I am a Remainer, I could never become a Leaver overnight, unless convinced by some new overwhelming evidence (that does not exist) or out of naked ambition and the desire to reach No. 10. But how do you live with yourself in such a scenario? How can Theresa May live with herself (and trust in God that she’s doing the right thing)? I know I couldn’t.

Maybe that’s why I’m a clergyman on the bottom rung of the ladder and she is prime minister.

What being pro-life really means (and why yesterday was a good day)

Yesterday, the Democrats took control of the House of Representatives and Nancy Pelosi was sworn in as Speaker, making her third in line to the presidency. It was a good day for democracy and many people rejoiced.

Of course, most evangelicals and many in the American Catholic Church did not rejoice. They don’t like the Democrats or Pelosi. They have bought into a rugged individualism type of politics and religion that rewards wealth and hard work and individual freedoms like the right to carry weapons (it’s why they can support a twice-divorced, tax-avoiding, sexist, racist, foul-mouthed president as someone specially anointed by God). For others, their opposition to Pelosi and the Democrats has got to do with abortion. This one issue frames their entire political thinking.

Of course, abortion is a critical issue. Preserving life, protecting the most vulnerable and defenceless, has a particular urgency for Christians because it is literally about life or death.

But what many forget is that being pro-life is more than being anti-abortion. It is to support life from womb to tomb. It is to seek to do all we can to protect and enhance life outside the womb as much as inside the womb.

This is known as having a consistent ethic of life – that, as Christians, we support everything that is pro-life and oppose everything that is anti-life. The late Cardinal Bernardin of Chicago described this stance as ‘the seamless garment’ approach to life issues. Christians believe that all human life is sacred because every human being is created in the image and likeness of God. And so, for us, all issues to do with life are of one piece, like a “seamless garment” (a reference to the garment Jesus wore before his crucifixion which was woven seamlessly from top to bottom).

Life issues are interrelated, interconnected, seamless. As Cardinal Bernardin put it: “Those who defend the right to life of the weakest among us must be equally visible in support of the quality of life of the powerless among us: the old and the young, the hungry and the homeless, the undocumented immigrant and the unemployed worker.”

If we are committed to “preserving life” (opposing abortion, euthanasia, capital punishment, etc), we should also be committed to “enhancing life” (supporting social justice, care of the earth, those on the margins). In other words, being pro-life is all-embracing.

That is where most in the Republican Party and in other right-wing parties get it wrong. It is certainly where so many conservative Catholics and evangelicals get it wrong. Already the newly inaugurated right-wing, evangelical president of Brazil is opening up the Amazon to even more exploitation and is rolling back hard-earned rights won by minority groups. Where is the Christianity in that?

Three ways to be a good news person

There’s been so much bad news over the past year, indeed over the past decade, that it can feel overwhelming. It’s a situation made all the more toxic by the Trump White House and the Brexit mess.

Aware of the prevalence of bad news stories, and the impact they have on readers, The New York Times newspaper decided some time ago to introduce a feature called The Week in Good News. This weekly newsletter, it explains, is meant to send the reader into the weekend with a smile, or at least a lighter heart. It includes little items of good news that readers otherwise might have missed, little stories that act as a welcome counterpoint to the surfeit of bad news that fills the rest of the paper.

A good approach to the new year would be for us to focus more on good news and less on bad news, those stories or opinion pieces that agitate or divide. While we can’t avoid the news if we wish to be informed, we can choose how to process it.

My advice to self this January is to remember three words beginning with  the letter ‘c’ that I hope to incorporate into my daily living:

1. Be clean. English is a rich language with about one million words. We don’t need to use bad language to express ourselves, even if an image of Trump or Jacob Rees Mogg pops up on the screen.

2. Be courteous. Use only words that are respectful, that honour rather than dishonour the other. This is hard to do, especially if we get angry easily or suffer from road rage, as I do.

3. Be constructive. Use words that are positive, not negative; that build up rather than knock down, that are life-enhancing rather than life-diminishing. This means resisting the urge to gossip or to damage another’s character, which is also hard to do, especially in the highly inflamed social media world of today.

The power of language is extraordinary. We should try to use it in a positive way.

Five little wishes for 2019

Nothing too ambitious, of course:

For an end to the stupidity that is Brexit. That sensible politicians on all sides of the House of Commons will insist on a People’s Vote, which will lead to a reversal of the decision made on the basis of lies and disinformation in June 2016.

For an end to the treachery that is the Trump administration. That publication of the Mueller report will finally force Republican members of Congress to realize that the rule of law and even personal self-interest far outweighs loyalty to a president who is loyal to no one but himself and his crooked family.

For an end to the scandal of homelessness in Ireland. An economy that is doing as well as ours should have no problem providing shelter for all its people. What is missing is the will to do it.

For an end to the sin of racism and xenophobia. That the increase in racism that has been enabled and encouraged by trumpism, Brexit and the growth in right-wing populism will be resisted and repelled by all right-thinking people at home and abroad. Calling out racists and shaming them on social media is a good way to go.

For an end to the culture of clericalism and cover up in the church. Despite Pope Francis’ best efforts, unreconstructed clericalism continues to do untold damage to the body of Christ. The careerists in the Curia are simply biding their time until Francis is gone. What is needed is a new council of the church, Vatican III, an assembly where voting rights would extend to lay men and women and not only to ordained clerics, to consider the mountain of pressing issues – vocations crisis, sex abuse scandals, the rights of women, mandatory celibacy, financial transparency, sexual ethics and attitude to those who are gay – that confront the church and threaten its future in large parts of the globe. It’s unlikely to happen this year, but then back in January 1958, no one expected that John XXIII would call a council that year either.

Miracles do happen, as the Limerick hurlers showed last year. And so we hope.

Trump is not pro-life

One of the most shocking aspects of the long and troubling US presidential election campaign has been the support Donald Trump received from the Christian right. Of course, the Christian right has supported the Republican nominee for president for decades. Evangelists like Billy Graham, Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson and others have always been cheerleaders for GOP candidates, using the party of Lincoln as a vehicle to promote their own socially and economically conservative agenda. Aware of the size of this constituency (though it is now shrinking fast) and the influence of its leaders, GOP candidates always make sure to have the Christian right on their side.

Whether one supported their agenda or not, it was easy to see why the Christian right would coalesce around the candidate of the Republican Party. Over more than 30 years, they have shared the same values and worldview. But this year is different. This year the Republican Party nominated a candidate who, one would have thought, could not possibly be endorsed by any respected Christian leader of any denomination. A three-times married narcissist who not only mocks the disabled, disrespects women, uses xenophobic and inflammatory language about immigrants, stirs racial tensions, and threatens anyone who disagrees with him, but who also never had any real interest in religion, should make people like Jerry Falwell Jr recoil in horror.

How could a demagogue like Trump receive the public blessing of a preacher like Robertson or the family of Billy Graham? Seemingly because he meets the only two criteria that they seek in a candidate for the office of president: that you claim to be pro-life and that you are the official nominee of the Republican Party. So what if you label Mexicans rapists and joke about groping women – as long as you say you are anti-abortion and in favour of traditional family values, then all is well and good.

Some US Catholic Church clergy have been no better than their Christian right counterparts. One Catholic parish in San Diego included an article in its Sunday bulletin saying Catholics were going to hell if they voted for Hillary Clinton and claiming Clinton was influenced by Satan. Another priest posted a pro-Trump video with a picture of a naked fetus on an altar. Some culture warrior bishops have contorted themselves in an effort to try to sound neutral while at the same time emphasising the singular importance of the sanctity of life.

Of course, the church is pro-life and must always stress its importance, but does anyone seriously believe that Trump is a pro-life enthusiast? That he would be able or willing to do what previous Republican presidents going back 40 years were unable to do?

And being pro-life is more than being anti-abortion. To be pro-life means to cherish all life from womb to tomb. It means opposing the death penalty, supporting families who are struggling to make ends meet, ensuring a fairer tax system and access to health care. To be pro-life means showing solidarity with refugees forced to flee their homes and homelands. It means rejecting racism, sexism and bigotry wherever they are to be found. A pro-life Christian is a unifier who espouses a consistent ethic of life, a person who is capable of empathy and conciliation, one who believes in building bridges not walls. Donald Trump is not such a person. His language and actions are the opposite of pro-life.

Of course, Hillary Clinton has many faults too. Her record is not unblemished and she is clearly pro-abortion rights, but she is not a narcissist or political extremist who uses inflammatory language to stir up dangerous nativist passions. She may not make a great president but she is far, far better than the alternative.

I won’t be alive to see a woman pope, but I hope that in a few hours I will see the first female president of the United States. I hope it will also mark the end of the unfortunate and unholy alliance between the Republican Party and the Christian right.

My problem with saint-making

All Saints is one of my favourite feasts. It’s an opportunity for me to remember the many saints I have known over the years who have passed from this life – family members, colleagues, friends – and to celebrate also the countless others who have lived saintly lives throughout history. I think this year especially of my father, who died 11 months ago, and my Aunt Mary, who died two weeks ago, as well as Fr Jacques Hamel, brutally beheaded in France, and of all those Christians who are being martyred every day in Syria and Iraq.

It’s a reminder also of my call to become a saint, even if I will never get to join the list of those in the official calendar of the church’s saints.

One thing’s for sure – there is no shortage of saints in the Catholic calendar. Pope John Paul II made sure of that. During his 26-year pontificate he canonised 482 saints and beatified 1,300 – far more than any pope in history. Indeed, between 1000 a.d. and 1978 a.d., fewer than 450 men and women were made saints by the Catholic Church. In other words, John Paul doubled this number all on his own.

He loved making saints. Many people would see that as a good thing. After all, we are all called to be saints, and surely we can never have too many of them.

But I have a number of problems with the saint-making process, especially as it developed under John Paul.

The first has to do with changes that made canonisation easier. The ‘Devil’s advocate’ was thrown out the window or, at least, downgraded to such a degree that the role is no longer recognisable. I’d prefer the more stringent process that existed in the past.

Then there is the speed of some canonisations. Several saints have been canonised within a very short period of their deaths. Yes, that happened occasionally in the past too, but what’s the rush? A wait-and-see attitude is always wise so that nothing might emerge in later years to cast a shadow on a particular saint.

Another issue has to do with the criteria John Paul II used when saint-making. He canonised more saints in his 26 years as pope than all popes of the previous millennium combined. He canonised all types. So, it’s extraordinary that he ignored Oscar Romero. Many people in El Salvador and throughout the Catholic world consider Romero to be a martyr for the faith, and yet the Vatican under John Paul and Benedict made no move to advance Romero’s cause. Why was Romero not canonised when so many others were? One would have to conclude that ideology and politics were at play; that JPII did not want to endorse someone so publicly associated with liberation theology, even though he was himself the most political of popes.

Pope Francis, of course, has no such hesitation. One of his first acts as pope was to put Romero on the road to sainthood.

Then there is the policy of almost automatically canonising popes. People accept that those elected to the papacy, at least in modern times, are good and holy men. Why, then, the need to canonise them? And if some popes are not canonised, does that mean they were less holy or great than those who were?

Of course, a danger with canonising popes is that it becomes all about church politics. Conservative Catholics will always refer to Pope John Paul as Saint John Paul the Great, whereas liberal Catholics – who prefer Saint John XXIII – are more likely to refer to him simply as John Paul. Indeed, it was to appease both right and left that canny Pope Francis canonised JPII and John XXIII on the same day. When I hear someone talk about Saint John Paul the Great, I know exactly where he or she stands theologically. Better not to canonise any pope than to turn the whole process into a political and ideological battle.

Then there’s the money involved. Saints don’t come cheap. Unless a group or religious order has the cash and resources to promote the cause of someone they would like to have canonised, it’s not going to happen quickly or at all. There’s something unseemly about mixing cash and saint-making.

So, let’s ease off on the saint-making and focus more on All Saints, those we have known and those who have gone before us, too numerous to tally.

A politician’s story reminds me of why I became a priest

A profile in yesterday’s New York Times reminded me why I chose a life in the church. It focused on Tim Kaine’s time as a lay missionary in Honduras in 1980, and how that experience has shaped his life and politics. Tim Kaine, in case you didn’t know, is the Democratic candidate for vice president of the United States, and is currently a senator for Virginia.

From an Irish Catholic background, Kaine attended a Jesuit-run high school. After graduating from college with a degree in law, he decided to do voluntary missionary work with the Jesuits in Honduras before deciding what to do with his life.

Central America was a dangerous place in the late 1970s and 80s. Violence and civil war in El Salvador and Nicaragua had spread into neighboring countries. In Honduras, the American backed right-wing dictatorship was at war with Marxists and anyone else who opposed it. Many priests and religious who were considered sympathetic to the insurgents were also targeted by the regime. In 1980, the year Kaine arrived in Central America, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated in El Salvador and later that year three American nuns and a young American aid worker, Jean Donovan, were raped and murdered by El Salvadoran military. To be a foreigner in those countries at that time was to put your life at risk.

Kaine recalls some of the Jesuits he met there and their commitment to the poor. He talks too about the influence on him of liberation theology and how he got to meet Jon Sobrino, one of the fathers of liberation theology. He describes a church for and of the poor, a church that placed social justice at the heart of its message.

Of course, liberation theology fell out of favour during the reigns of John Paul II and Benedict, who regarded it with suspicion, and who appointed bishops that would drive it underfoot. But the life and example of people like Jean Donovan was why I wanted to become a priest.

Tim Kaine’s story reminds me of that difficult yet glorious time, and of all Christians who have served the poor and paid the price throughout the world. Thank God, Pope Francis has placed a new emphasis on the church’s social teaching, a teaching that challenges all Catholics, no matter who and where we are.