April 5, 2007
When I was growing up in Northern Ireland, there were two kinds of people: Catholics and Protestants.
Actually, there were three, but the Salvation Army did not really count because they wore their religion too lightly. They were happy, sang about Jesus, played band music in the street, and organized seaside trips for families — Protestant and Catholic. So, they did not really count. Catholics went to Catholic Schools and learnt Irish history and the Gaelic language, while Protestants learnt British history in their schools and spoke the Queen’s English.
We Catholics went to chapel; the Protestants went to church. The nuns at our schools warned us our mortal souls would be in danger if we ever darkened the door of any non-Catholic church. It was considered a serious (mortal) sin. A group of us, unbeknownst to our parents and the nuns, would often climb the gates of a Presbyterian church and see how far we could hang over, without sinning. Somehow, we managed to evade stabbing ourselves on the three-inch long spikes at the top of the railings. When we applied for jobs, there was no point in trying to work for a Protestant firm. There was no outright admission of discrimination. No one ever said, “Oh, we won’t employ Catholics here.” The application form asked us to name the school we attended, thus declaring our religious affiliation, which led to our exclusion from many job openings.
My Catholic parents were among the minority who allowed their children to play with Protestants, and we had the unique distinction of having Protestant next-door neighbors. People often commented, “They are Protestants, but they are lovely people.”
My paternal great-grandfather had been a Presbyterian who was disinherited from his family because he married a Catholic. In general we lived in different areas of the City, and one Protestant quarter was actually separated from a Catholic area by walls. Was it any wonder that when “the troubles in Northern Ireland” exploded there was such bloodshed? Protestants and Catholics killed each other because of religion.
My father told me a horrendous story that communicated the atrocities spawned by segregation. Just after sunset, on a cold, wet January evening in 1976, a minibus full of workers was returning home. A group of armed, masked men ambushed the bus. The occupants were ordered at gunpoint to line up at the side of the road. An order was given.
“Any Catholics? Step out here.”
As it turned out, the men, including the driver, were Protestant, with one exception. The presumption was that the masked men were Protestant paramilitaries intent on carrying out a tit-for-tat sectarian killing of the Catholic, as he was the odd man out and an IRA sympathizer. It was an excruciating moment for him, but he made a movement to step forward. Then, my father was told, in that split second of indecision, the Catholic felt the hand of the Protestant worker beside him take his and squeeze it in a signal that seemed to say:
“No, don’t move, we’ll not betray you, nobody need know what faith or party you belong to.”
The gesture was futile. The man stepped out of the line. He expected to feel the metal of the gun against his forehead. Instead, he was pushed away roughly, and the gunmen opened fire on those remaining in the line. The shooters were not Protestant terrorists, but members of the Provisional IRA.
My blood still chills and my eyes fill with tears when I recall that story, and my father’s telling of it. Unfortunately it is only one of too many such incidents that have occurred in my homeland over the past 40 years. I had hoped and prayed for peace, but often felt futility and despair. The symbol of Protestant hatred recognized around the world was seen in the face and person of the Rev. Ian Paisley, Leader of the Democratic Unionist Party, and that of the Catholics in Gerry Adams leader of the Sinn Fein Party. The hatred spewed out by these men, over the years, has been a contradiction of all that is truly human, never mind religious.
So, what happened on 26th March, 2007, is mind-boggling for me. These two elected politicians finally agreed to share power in order to jointly govern the Province of Northern Ireland. I must confess that I almost gagged when I heard Ian Paisley say:
“We must not allow our justified loathing of the horrors and tragedies of the past become a barrier to create a better and more stable future for our children.”
In that statement, he shifted the course and the focus of much of his life. He had vowed repeatedly that he would never share power with “that heretic Gerry Adams” and the Party he stood for.
I wonder what caused this historic shift? Ian Paisley is now 80 years old. Maybe he got tired of fighting and ranting? I know the answers I seek cannot be simple. I know that compromise was and will continue to be required from both leaders and their political parties. I know it might take years and several more generations for the fears, bitterness and divisions to heal — but this is a start. It this can come about in a place like Northern Ireland, maybe it can come about in the Middle East and other places in the world where hatred and division thrive? It encourages me to know it’s never too late for any one of us to begin the journey of change and reconciliation.
Comments
bigsheep (anonymous) says...
I simply can't imagine what it must have been like for you to grow up in a war torn environment and to come out it with such an understanding heart. Thank you for sharing so much with me, I simply had no idea how much hatred was breeding in the midst of such a lovely country. All the Irish people I know have huge hearts so hopefully, in a country with so many lovely people they will be able to resolve their difference and future generations will live in peace and harmony.
April 12, 2007 at 2:34 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
eroddy (Eileen Roddy-Phillips) says...
Thanks, Bigsheep. I was sturck by your phrase "so much hatred breeding in such a beautiful county." My niece has been working in Africa, and she had the privelege of visiting Rwanda a week ago. She said it was "the most beautiful place on earth." She visited the places of the massacres and was overwhelmed. When she walked through villages she said she was struck at how people who had witnessed such horror appeared to be outwardly normal.
April 12, 2007 at 6:05 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
cagaumer (anonymous) says...
I never join websites like this. But I love this one, Eileen, I particularly love all your posts. It is so easy for me to get so wrapped up in my world. Thanks for helping me think beyond my own world. Just keep writing.
May 9, 2007 at 11:30 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
Post a comment
Commenting requires registration.