Editorial: Trust enough?
Anna Rankin

From the director: Icons of Culture and Political Identity: A Decade of Opportunity
David W Porter

Comment: Shaking hands with soldiers

At the end of the day: Trust
Alan McBride

Remember 1916
Philip Orr

Shattered pieces - a journey in recovering trust
Derek Poole

Interview with Rev John Dunlop & Danny Morrison: Truth & Trust
David Porter

Faith matters
Allen Sleith

lyo nta kindi dufite uretse UKWIZERA
Fidele Mutwarasibo

A Reader's Response to Lion&Lamb #40
Gerry Rankin

Bible Study: Trust
Bishop Donal McKeown

Review: Religion, Identity and Politics in Northern Ireland: Boundaries of Belonging and Belief
Gladys Ganiel

Review: 1916: Lest We Forget
Lynda Gould

Difficult Conversations
Peace and Reconciliation in a Plural Society
Lynda Gould

New Resource
The Theological Grounds for Advocating Forgiveness and Reconciliation in the Socio-political Realm

< Past Issues Archive

The peoples of Ireland are burdened by their history. To the modern mind, intent on living for the moment, the past is closed whereas the future is always better, brighter and full of promise and potential. It seems a peculiar notion that any nation or group can be so captive to the dead hand of the past.

FROM THE DIRECTOR
Icons of Culture and Political Identity: A Decade of Opportunity
David W Porter

THERE ARE THOSE for whom nation, land, ethnicity and the story of their people and how they got here is an irrelevancy; for others it is a potent force for identity, belonging and even violence in defence of their people’s dignity. Many in western ‘modern’ societies seem to miss that for the majority of the world’s population these things do matter. A deep sense of honour and belonging shapes the destiny of many leaders and nations.

This is not to say that the concerns of community and belonging don’t count for us all. They do. It is simply that the world of the early twenty-first century is divided as to how they matter.

In the west we have become what one commentator has called ‘consumer nationalists’. What matters most is what we are ‘consuming’ in the moment, whether that is family, friends, entertainment or possessions. Even religion and our spiritual experiences have become part of this embrace of the moment. As long as we are ‘free’ to enjoy what is ours to enjoy we aren’t too bothered by the offences or hurts of the past. Nor, at times, does it seem we are that bothered by present injustices, unless through mass economic migration or political instability our capacity to maintain our lifestyle is threatened.

There is a positive spin to this approach. The largely peaceable nature of much of western life in the second half of the twentieth century owes much to a materially prosperous society absorbed on the journey to self-fulfilment. A cult of entertainment and celebrity lulls us further into giving little thought to the complex global relationships of dominance and exploitation between peoples that maintain our lifestyle.

Yet left unexamined, the deep-rooted anxiety about who we are and who are our people returns to haunt each generation. When our freedom to be left alone is threatened we return to our gut hates and prejudices. It takes surprisingly little to uncover the primal mistrust and suspicion of the other beneath the civilised exterior. Economic prosperity may give the building of good relations between peoples a good start, but in itself it is no lasting fix.

It is healthy that each generation asks the question, ‘Who are we?’ Who is modern Ireland and what is the story its peoples tell that gives meaning to their belonging and participation on this island?

This is critical as we approach the centenary of the founding myths of the two great traditions that shape Ireland – republican and unionist. 1916 was and is a seminal year for both. The Easter Rising and the Somme offensive played a major part in shaping the story of Ireland in the twentieth century. How we mark the centenary of these events will be an indicator of how transformational the peace process really is.

The fiftieth anniversary, in 1966, could be said to have been the start of the Troubles – with the formation of the modern UVF as an expression of growing unionist anxiety and mistrust in the face of a resurgent militant republicanism which, despite the failure of the IRA border campaign, had gained acceptability. Each of these factors fuelled growing mistrust on both sides and shaped the tragic course of events that took us in to three decades of violence, waste and human suffering.

It is important how we now prepare to tell these stories to a new generation. How do we imagine ourselves in the world of today? Peoples and nations are shaped by the imagination and the communal experience handed down from each generation. Events of fifty, one hundred and even two hundred years ago are important because in the communal memory they are measured not in years but in the relationships of a few people across the generations. Parent, grandparent, great grandparent and I can traverse 150 years through the first-hand stories of three to four people.

It will not do for us to avoid telling our stories, saying it doesn’t matter in today’s world. It always matters. Left unexamined and not retold, the trauma, hurt and experience of the last thirty years will be retained as a deep well of sectarian hate and communal bitterness waiting for another generation’s injustice to draw on its corrosive power.

Nor can the church wash its hands of responsibility for this process. Being citizens of the kingdom of God emphatically does not mean we somehow no longer belong to this community. In fact the opposite is true, for Jesus sends us as he was sent – to be embedded in the life of a broken world. Nor can we sit idly by, as the world degenerates before our eyes, awaiting its end. Belonging to this coming kingdom compels us to be salt and light, to work for justice and peace in a fallen world.

As part of the Christian community of Ireland we need to take our place in the conversation and debate that will shape the story we tell of our people and place. Not least because we believe there is a deeper well that people can draw from that brings healing and life. We too need to retell our story as people of faith who have been both complicit and a redemptive presence.

And there are other peoples who have now made this island their home. The story of how they have come to be here and their contribution to the country we are today and will be in the future is profoundly important to us all. Our ability to both hear and embrace these stories of migration and settlement will have consequences for our society and for us as the church. Especially as many of those coming share our Christian faith, though shaped by different cultural forms and given a variety of spiritual expressions.

Who we will be and what we will look like in ten years time as a country depends on how we shape the conversation now. As Christians we are called to seek the welfare of the community to which we belong. We therefore need an honest conversation among ourselves and to be a critical conversation partner with wider society as we define ourselves in relation to these icons of culture and belonging. In this way 2016 can provide us with a decade of opportunity in which to move out of the ghettoes of our mistrust and hate.

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