Considering Grace. Gladys Ganiel
scrapbook of the newspaper clippings describing their deaths. ‘A lot of them were young families. They were people who served in the security forces; that’s why they were targeted. They were hard-working people. They joined up to try and help the country get back to normality again.’
Roy called on the families in the immediate aftermath and continued for years with follow-up visits. It was important for the families that their relatives were not forgotten. Families often paid for plaques or memorials to be placed in the church building, bearing their loved ones’ names.
The Moderator assisted Roy with every funeral. Local clergy from the other denominations, Protestant and Catholic, also supported him. It was still difficult. ‘I always felt that I was left there very much on my own, dealing with people. You were back and forth to their homes frequently after these things happened, to see how they were and if there was anything you could help them with.’ Roy’s health suffered under the strain and he applied twice for early retirement. ‘Somehow I endured and fulfilled my full term.’ It has been two decades since he retired, but he visits Castlederg occasionally. He is glad the memorials in the church keep people’s memories alive. ‘When you visit, you might see people who you watched shedding tears at the time of their troubles. You’d meet them again, and the tears would come back to their eyes. We came through a lot together. I would hope that whatever I did, my ministry among them would have helped them.’
Preaching
‘The statement prevented retaliation.’
Russell Birney looked out over those gathered in Clarkesbridge Presbyterian. The small church was overflowing with mourners. It was a united service, organised after the murders in Tullyvallen Orange Hall. He read out a statement pledging that there would be no retaliation. It was an agreed statement, which Rev. John Hawthorne of the Reformed Presbyterian Church had helped him write. ‘I read out a statement, pleading for peace and that there be no retaliation for this event.’ Russell invited those who agreed with the statement to stand. Not everyone stood immediately, so he waited. And waited. And waited – until everyone in the church was on their feet.
During a time marked by tit-for-tat killings, it was a remarkable occasion. ‘I’ve been told subsequently that the statement prevented retaliation because there were people at the service who were determined they were going to avenge. We were speaking for the victims, for those who were wounded, because they were fine people who would not have wanted revenge. There was no tit-for-tat following Tullyvallen Orange Hall.’
‘No road is worth a life.’
During his time in Pomeroy and Sandholes, William Bingham was Deputy Grand Chaplain of the Orange Order and County Grand Chaplain of Armagh. He negotiated on behalf of the Orange Order during the most volatile years of Drumcree (1996–8). The Orange Order sought to parade to the Church of Ireland in Drumcree using the Garvaghy Road, which traversed a nationalist area. The run-up to the parade in 1996 and 1997 had been marred by violence and rioting. In the early hours of Sunday 12 July 1998, just hours before Orangemen from throughout Northern Ireland were due to gather at Drumcree, three young boys were murdered in an Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) firebomb attack at their home in Ballymoney, Co. Antrim. Richard, Mark and Jason Quinn were from a mixed religious background – their mother was Catholic. The murders were understood as sectarian and driven by the tensions around Drumcree.
William was due to preach that morning in an Orange service at his church in Pomeroy. Given his high profile in the negotiations, the media descended en masse. William was as convinced as ever that the Orange Order had a right to parade, but not at any cost.
I spoke without notes because I thought, this has to come from my heart. The text I took was from the book of Micah: ‘What does the Lord require of you but to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.’ I talked about the justice of the cause and the right that we had. Then I said: ‘No road is worth a life. Not the life of three little boys. Not the life of anybody. What’s happened in Ballymoney is wrong and is to be condemned. And if you’re intent on going to Drumcree tonight to cause violence, then go home. Don’t come.’
William’s words echoed beyond the walls of his rural church. First and Deputy First Ministers David Trimble and Seamus Mallon issued a statement: ‘Nothing can be gained from continuing this stand-off. As the Rev. William Bingham said, no road is worth a life and we echo that statement.’ Further violence was averted. But William acknowledged that, ‘Some felt I had betrayed the cause at Drumcree. Others were glad that it had been said and were very supportive.’
‘We must offer forgiveness unconditionally.’
On the day of the Enniskillen bomb, Gordon Wilson, a Methodist whose daughter Marie had been killed, gave an interview in which he said he bore no ill will towards her killers. His words lingered with David Cupples. ‘Gordon Wilson’s interview created a different atmosphere but polarised opinions over what is forgiveness. Did he have the right to forgive them? What does forgiveness mean? I knew that sooner or later the issue of forgiveness would have to be addressed.’ Five weeks after the bomb, David preached on forgiveness. He said then: ‘The debate rages in the Christian church about whether you can forgive people before they repent. I believe if we are to follow the example of Jesus, we must offer forgiveness unconditionally. But the person who has committed the injury cannot actually have an experience of forgiveness unless they admit they have done something wrong.’12
Fear of Paisley
We did not ask anyone we interviewed about Paisley, but most of the ministers brought him up. They said that the Presbyterian Church in Ireland (PCI) – from its local ministers to the leaders of the denomination – feared Paisley would attract Presbyterians into his Free Presbyterian Church. The result was that PCI became more conservative and less open to peacemaking than it might have been. One put it this way:
We were under pressure from the Paisleyite faction who would be very quick to say ‘Traitor!’ Paisley was a great problem for our ministers. A lot of our members were influenced by Paisley. A lot of ministers would have loved to have said and done more but that Paisley threat inhibited them from saying too much, too plainly, too publicly.
Another minister recalled how when Paisley emerged as a public figure in the 1960s, people at first treated him as ‘a figure of fun, a relic of another century’. He was only a teenager at the time, but he recalled one ‘very decent Presbyterian elder, saying late one night: “I don’t agree with his methods, but there is a lot in what he says.” And I should maybe have paid more attention to that at the time.’ After he became a minister, he was dismayed at the impact Paisley had on PCI. ‘If you were a Presbyterian minister in a small community and you did something that displeased some of your people, then the Paisleyites were in like a shot. You’re in a small congregation. The Free Presbyterians are starting up the road. You’re not going to do something that’s going to see forty families disappear.’ In 1980, PCI voted to leave the ecumenical World Council of Churches (WCC). There were concerns that WCC humanitarian aid was being diverted to terrorist groups in Africa. But it is likely that Paisley’s anti-ecumenical activism was another factor. This minister continued: ‘I think a lot of people within Irish Presbyterianism shared Paisley’s basic theology. Did he bring us out of the World Council of Churches? I doubt it. But did he have an influence in that? I think he did.’
Many Presbyterian congregations were bitterly divided in their opinions about Paisley. We spoke to one minister who served in a rural congregation with many members of the Orange Order. ‘There were a succession of special services: for the local Orange Lodge, the District Orange Lodge, the Black, etc.’ On one occasion, ‘one of these firebrands wanted Paisley to conduct the service in my church’. The minister – taking a considerable risk – refused. A man standing nearby said, ‘Then we’ll just let him speak in the field.’ He was met with this pithy retort from another man: ‘It’s the right place for him!’
David Armstrong
Some ministers said that what had happened to David Armstrong in First Limavady, Co. Londonderry, served as a cautionary tale: anyone who tried to reach out to Catholics would not be welcome in PCI. Just as we did not ask people about Paisley, we did not ask people about Armstrong either