Review by
Philip Harvey first published in Tin Tean in 2012
Underground
Cathedrals, by Mark Patrick Hederman OSB (Columba Press ISBN 978-1-85607-695-1,
published 2010)
One of the
major historical changes in Ireland over the past twenty years has been the
withdrawal of popular involvement in the dominant Roman Catholic Church. This
is not just disillusion with the Church but angry rejection of its place as a
leading institution of Irish life, brought about distinctively but not solely
by the clergy sex abuse scandals and episcopal failure to deal meaningfully
with these outrages. There is an ongoing sea change, with a need to review its
causes and reconsider the future. An impressive aspect of this book by the
Abbot of Glenstal Abbey is its primary concern with the people of Ireland and
the shape of their future, rather than with the woes of the Church.
Using the
image of the cathedral to explain Christian history, Mark Patrick Hederman
defines normative Catholicism as coming from two main sources: St Augustine’s
teachings, symbolised by the Romanesque cathedral, and St Thomas Aquinas,
symbolised in the complete worldview expressed in Gothic cathedrals. Although
both theologians developed systems that were open-ended, the Church adopted
their work as definitive for Catholic doctrine, with a resulting rigidity that
gave little scope for new ideas and discoveries, a rigidity by the way not
found in the spirit of enquiry displayed by the saints themselves. Hederman
shows how something was bound to give way. In one sweeping chapter he explains
what happened to poverty, chastity, and obedience when addressed respectively
by Marx, Freud, and Nietzsche. The Church’s own self-restricting positions, as
dictated by Augustine and Aquinas, had turned these affirmative virtues into
rule-bound negations of life. Nor did the Church have the imaginative language
or flexibility to engage with our changing knowledge of the universal, the
social, or the personal.
Such
Catholicism was bound to be restrictive in such an isolated nation. Hederman
writes, “From the very beginning of our history as a newly formed independent
twentieth century state in Ireland, our mental architecture was consciously
designed and implemented. National identity was expressed in symbols
representing our Celtic heritage, the Gaelic language, and the Roman Catholic
religion. These received state and ecclesiastical support. The questionable
authenticity of this cluster of symbols has much to do with our current
problems.” Hederman is harsh in his description of the construction after 1949
of Galway Cathedral. Dedicated in 1965, it was “an object lesson in
insularity,” and “a gloomy monument … to our refusal to emerge from the tomb of
medieval Christianity.” The Second Vatican Council, which ended in the same
year, produced documents on liturgy that “rendered the shape, style,
arrangement and settings of such buildings obsolete and anachronistic,” while
across Europe churches in new styles were being built with virtuosity and great
theological awareness. This cathedral image is pivotal in his discussion, as it
symbolises the unquestioned and unquestioning authority once enjoyed by the
Church in Irish society, but also the inertia and even stagnation that can
follow from such an overriding role. It also informs his thinking on the
sensitive subject of the Ryan Report, where he argues that the power to act on
abuse was impossible while for decades no one would have been allowed to say
anything against a priest, let alone question his integrity. For Hederman, the
Church fulfilled the role of “removing from the people their freedom and
responsibility for working out their own salvation, reducing them to
infantilism and treating them like children.”
The Abbot
has been a champion of artistic expression. He is important, in my view, for
being the first reader of James Joyce inside Ireland to treat that literary
master as fulfilling a religious vision of existence, i.e. explaining that
satire of Catholicism does not make you an anti-religious or non-religious
writer. It is Joyce who celebrated the human body, in contrast to the hatred of
the body expressed by the Church, such that the Abbot calls it Manichean. So it
is not surprising that Hederman’s appeal to the Spirit, his solution to the
impasse of the current Church crisis, and the problems of Irish identity, is
through learning from artists, writers, and poets. That is the central argument
of this book, that “myopically cloistered Ireland” must become open to the
Spirit as revealed through these explorers of the imagination. Interestingly,
in this respect he offers the same advice given by Enda McDonagh when that
moral theologian spoke at the Irish Studies Conference at Newman College
in Melbourne some years ago on the
subject ‘Faith and the Cure of Poetry’. Both men are looking outside the church
for those expressions whereby we may discern the activity of the Spirit.
As well as
praising contemporary artists who dare to expose the difficult nature of
Ireland today, or who attempt to present possibilities for the future, Hederman
also identifies older artists who have become prophets recognised in their own
country. Louis Le Brocquy, for example, an artist vilified by the Dublin
establishment in the 1950s, he says is “revealing the divine face which is the
fundamental reality of who we are at our most creative and at our most
personal.” Brian Friel, that proclaimer and revealer in the underground
cathedral known as the theatre, produces “life-support machines” that may
engender religious experience. Hederman even quotes Friel, who discovered that
“this ritual, this wordless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper
private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness.” Then Seamus
Heaney, whom Hederman says is “developing an alphabet of metaphysical archaeology
and a vocabulary to help us adapt to ‘being in depth’.” The Abbot is realistic
in saying that prophets before now have not been received in their own country,
pointing to Yeats, Joyce and all who spoke in their generation of a more human
religion and a more open Ireland, only to have their main message ignored by
the majority. But Hederman praises and enables, getting us to see hope in a
time of despair, for certainly he knows he belongs inside a church that is in
permanent crisis mode. This book comes out of that understanding, informed
though by a love both of church of the Irish nation.
If
questions must be asked of the Abbot’s arguments, they go back to first
principles. There is, for example, no doubt that any church lacking an
understanding and proclamation of the Gospel is not going to last long and
cannot really be called a church. Missing through most of his discussion is any
mention of Scripture, making one wonder just how removed Irish Catholics have
become from the foundation of the written faith. Maybe, and not just maybe, it
is time for the Abbot and others to start developing an Irish liberation
theology. Beggars can’t be choosers, as those Latin Americans knew who went
back to their Bibles and began applying the stories to their own conditions
when adopting liberation theology practice. The Irish Church finds itself in a
not dissimilar position, where those who remain do not trust hierarchies and
crave the living sources that created a Celtic Church in the first place.
Visiting Lough Derg is a good start and Hederman has an inspiring chapter on
how modern writers (Carleton, McCarthy, Devlin, Kavanagh, Heaney) have used the
famous pilgrimage site of Station Island as the place to reconnect with their
Ireland, past and present. But without individual discovery of the Scripture it
is impossible properly to understand the sacraments, let alone the deeper
religious meanings of our artists. Basic ecclesial communities deserve to be
the subject of his next writings.
Listening
to the people should be a first requirement of a priest and Mark Patrick
Hederman is leading by example in this respect. He also understands better than
most that art and its making are signs of the spirit, a view strangely out of
fashion in the relativistic postmodern art world itself but not with those who
look at human expression to explain meaning and existence. Yet it has to be
asked how art in all its forms can alone change people’s sensibilities for the
better or make them more charitable towards others. There is too an implication
here that expressions of the Spirit in Irish art are certain good not only for
finding a national future, but a future inside the Church. Catholicism at its
best has always gone to artists to explain faith and the whole book is written
with this attitude, this sensibility in mind, but I ask if Hederman is not at
times unconsciously equating the affirmative pursuits of Roman Catholicism in
this regard with Irish national aspirations and hopes, in ways that replicate
the same error he is accusing 20th century Ireland of having
committed.
Still, the
Abbot wants his reader to open her mind, to interpret her dreams. He wants the
reader to get in touch with his feminine side, to become aware of his unspoken
desires to destroy that which speaks to his reality and to his hopes. He is
writing not just to those still in the church, but very especially to those who
have left. He is in pursuit of what is called in the three-page poem that opens
the book, ‘The Truth of Poetry’, a poem written on the 3rd of
February 2009 and handed to the Abbot by one Michael D. Higgins.
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