Considering Grace. Gladys Ganiel
Lynda has many years’ experience in faith-based peacebuilding in organisations like Evangelical Contribution on Northern Ireland (ECONI) and YouthLink. One of her frustrations is that peacemaking has been compartmentalised to denominational overseeing bodies such as the CPA or to dedicated peace groups within local congregations, making it the priority of a few people rather than mainstreaming it throughout the denomination. Lynda longs for peacebuilding to be at the heart of PCI. But in effect, she said, the establishment of peace groups has marginalised peacebuilding rather than made it a priority.
On the other hand, many Presbyterians do not agree with PCI’s peace statements – especially the idea that PCI should confess for failing to be peacemakers. Some Presbyterians also believe PCI has not done enough to help victims. They think it is wrong that some Moderators and groups like the CPA have advocated reconciliation with Catholics without focusing enough on victims.
It is within this complex and complicated religious context that we carried out our research. Neither Gladys nor Jamie are members of PCI, although Gladys attends Fitzroy Presbyterian in South Belfast and Jamie is a committed member of the Belfast Collective, an independent, evangelical congregation in Belfast. We conducted the research according to rigorous academic standards. We were committed to uncovering as full a story as we could, rather than simply telling PCI what we thought it wanted to hear. That meant including people with a range of experiences and perspectives, people from all parts of Northern Ireland and the border counties, and at least fifty women. Most studies of religion in Northern Ireland have focused on clergy and leaders. Although there are ordained female ministers in PCI, their numbers are few and women’s experiences of religion have been neglected.
The research was designed in partnership with the task group, which helped identify the categories of interviewees: ministers, victims, security forces, those affected by loyalist paramilitarism (including ex-combatants), emergency responders and health care workers, quiet peacemakers, politicians, people who left Presbyterianism, and critical friends from outside the denomination. The selection of interviewees was also facilitated through the task group. Tony and Norman wrote to every serving minister in Northern Ireland and the border counties, inviting them to nominate members of their congregation to be interviewed. The task group used their own knowledge to nominate others. All of the interviewees who had left Presbyterianism and the critical friends were nominated by the task group as well as most of the ministers, who were retired or could not be expected to nominate themselves. Participants were offered anonymity and confidentiality, except for public figures like politicians or others whose experiences would make them easily identifiable in their communities. Interviews were conducted between June and December 2017. Participants were aware that while we were researchers from Queen’s, we were also speaking with them on behalf of PCI. In effect, they were invited to speak to the church – and the wider society – through us.
But we are also aware that not everyone responded to the invitation. We interviewed Rev. Rodney Beacom, who ministers to four rural congregations in Co. Fermanagh. Beacom served in the RUC during the Troubles, and was injured in an IRA ambush in 1994. He did not become a minister until nearly two decades later. He said:
When I look at the families in my congregations who are still suffering because of the Troubles, the reality is they feel forgotten and ignored. When [I got the letter] from Tony Davidson, it was a dilemma for me as to what to do. The first question I asked myself was: What are the victims going to benefit from this? Are they going to be listened to? I did talk to a few victims and told them what I had got and what you were looking to do with this. They didn’t want to get involved, so I didn’t put any names forward, even though I could have because I know that those people feel as if they’ve been abandoned by the state, and abandoned to a lesser extent by the church. It’s the price they feel they are paying for peace.
In addition to listening to those within its own fold who have felt forgotten and neglected, the project reflects PCI’s desire to be heard by those outside the denomination. In 1995, Rev. John Dunlop, a former Moderator and minister at Rosemary Presbyterian in North Belfast, wrote: ‘Perhaps what has been hardest to bear is a widespread sense that outside these grieving families, communities and Churches, few people seemed to care. The deep-seated feeling within the Presbyterian community is that the outside world, even that outside world no further away than Britain, never cared, for they mostly never knew or didn’t want to know.’10
The people we interviewed had diverse experiences and responses to them. But each person was, in their own way, considering grace. We have structured their stories in chapters based on the categories that shaped the research: ministers, victims, security forces, those affected by loyalist paramilitarism, first responders and health care workers, quiet peacemakers, politicians, those who left Presbyterianism and critical friends. People who waived their rights to anonymity and confidentiality are identified throughout by their full names. Those who did not are identified throughout only by a first name, which is a pseudonym. We did not interview equal numbers of people in each category, so the chapters vary in length.11 The book concludes with a chapter reflecting on the significance of these stories for the present and the future. It introduces ‘gracious remembering’ as a way forward. Gracious remembering recognises the need to acknowledge suffering, to be self-critical about the past, and to create space for lament and for remembering for the future.
As Presbyterians strive to come to terms with their experiences of the Troubles, the Vision for Society statement reminds them that they are ‘called by God to grace-filled relationships’. By reflecting on the experiences of its own people, PCI is asking itself what grace-filled relationships could look like today. It is asking itself if it is up to the challenge of considering grace. And it is inviting everyone on this island to join them on this most painful and difficult journey.
CHAPTER 2
Ministers
Presbyterian ministers served in tense border communities dogged by tit-for-tat violence, in estates controlled by loyalist paramilitaries, in urban interface areas, and in predominantly Protestant towns and villages. Their influence was not limited to church members. Their pastoral care extended beyond their own congregations, and people who otherwise never came to church attended the funerals at which they preached. Some ministers became de facto media spokespeople for the wider Protestant community. As we listened to their stories, it became clear that along with police and emergency services workers, ministers were among the first responders to violent events. This was exhausting work that could leave them too emotionally spent for much else. Some ministers felt that peacemaking was their calling, devoting themselves to reconciliation initiatives with Catholics. Others feared that peacemaking would leave them vulnerable to attacks from Rev. Ian Paisley and his Free Presbyterian Church, or from members of the Orange Order in their own congregations. Others recalled the cautionary example of Rev. David Armstrong, whose elders asked him to resign after reaching out to Catholics in his town. To capture the range of experiences, we have organised this chapter thematically: ministers as first responders, preaching, fear of Paisley, David Armstrong and making peace.
Ministers as First Responders
‘I cried in a way I never cried in my life, before or since.’
On Remembrance Sunday morning 1987, David Cupples was in his study putting the finishing touches to his sermon. He had been installed as minister in Enniskillen Presbyterian just two months before. ‘I was beavering away, preparing the service upstairs at quarter to eleven when I heard this bang.’
The Remembrance Day bomb in Enniskillen is one of the most notorious incidents of the Troubles. Eleven were killed and sixty-three injured in the Irish Republican Army (IRA) blast as they waited at the cenotaph for a service to begin. Six of the dead were from David’s congregation.
As the sirens of emergency services began to wail, it became clear that there had been a major incident. David made his way to the church hall in the centre of town. ‘Everyone was sitting around the church hall with their mouths open, and there was this deathly silence. I could feel myself physically beginning to crumble. I could feel the level of trauma in the room and I immediately knew I was going to have to deal with an absolutely overwhelming pastoral situation. But I physically looked up and I said: “Lord, I’m making a decision here not to panic. I’m trying