Growing up in Ireland’s primary school system was quite a Catholic experience. Like many others, I didn’t realise how odd it was to combine religion and education, so I endured those boring prayers and Alive-O songs.
Despite Circle of Friends being an absolute banger, I hadn’t the faintest interest in the church, the Bible or the “Fantasy of God” as I saw it. Yawning throughout communion practices, I would daydream about faraway things more interesting than the priest’s monotonous tone. Leaving primary school meant finally getting some distance from all that humdrum.
My secondary school was part of the Church of Ireland, and although we gathered for a couple of services each year, Jesus wasn't shoved down my throat every other day.
Sure, there were some Chaplains milling about and the odd speech about our Lord and Saviour, but for the most part I’d successfully left behind all that “pious nonsense” as I saw it.
Better still, religion was not an exam subject in our school, and sometimes the period marked as “religion” was used for some decent sex education instead – a safe distance from the church’s teachings.
After years of viewing Christianity as an old-fashioned practice for my grandparents’ generation, there was no doubt in my mind that the story of Jesus was not for me.
This was especially true when I learned of the brave victims who risked a great deal to expose the abuse they faced by priests. The unravelling truth about this toxic culture turned me and the Irish people away from an institution that for too long had misused its power – and I did not look back.
Then you might be as surprised as I was to learn that at the age of 22, a decade after leaving Christianity firmly behind, I started going to church again. Not the Catholic Church though.
Towards the end of my college years I became friendly with a Church of Ireland chaplain. Over coffee we would talk about lots of things, including our faith (or lack thereof in my case). Although I had little interest in the idea of church, it occurred to me that there may be wisdom to gain from the Bible. Maybe I had something to learn from these stories that have stood the test of time. After all, this bestseller has sold over 5 billion copies.
Young adults
I began attending fairly informal gatherings of young people in their 20s where we would discuss everything from forgiveness to community – and throw in some scripture every now and then.
As I got to know these people, it occurred there may be benefits to the Bible I hadn’t considered. There I was, surrounded by the most kind-hearted and selfless people who put community at the heart of their lives.
These progressive Christians, who welcomed the LGBTQ+ community more than any other groups I’ve met, changed my preconceptions of a sometimes conservative-labelled religion. Clearly there was value in living a Christian life. (Not that we need the Bible to live like a Christian, but these guys were obviously doing something right.)
I tried going to a traditional church service, the kind where the congregation sits and listens to the man at the top. That didn’t do it for me. Maybe the daydreaming took hold of me again but ultimately I don’t have much time for sitting idly and being told what to think.
This group of young adults gave me a platform to listen to others my own age, who I could relate to and engage with like no priest in my school days ever could. Although I want little to do with the traditional idea of church, I’m becoming increasingly attracted to smaller, dialogue-centred gatherings.
Speaking with my chaplain friend recently, I quizzed him on the need for a formal church institution. Still dipping my toe into things, I was not sold on its purpose.
“The hierarchy of churches takes power away from parishioners, which is completely contrary to the egalitarian vision Jesus had,” I suggested. “Why do we need churches when so often they’ve facilitated awful abuse of power?”
After some consideration, he proposed the following idea: “What if church is just another word for community?”
One thing I’ve learned since beginning to explore the Bible again, is community is central to Jesus’s message. What’s the point in hiding away and praying for others unless you get off your knees and do something about it? So when my friend pointed out the obvious problem with removing community from below Christians’ feet, I understood the solution wasn’t so simple.
When people ask if I’m religious, I tell them I’m interested in the Bible. “Religious” or “Christian” strike me as loaded terms and I’m not sure I fit in that box just yet.
Now, 18 months in to my first consensual relationship with God, I’m glad to have arrived here voluntarily in the end – without the evangelism that clearly didn’t work on me as a child. Where this curiosity will take me is unclear, but for now I feel better for the community that have welcomed me on my terms – and not on those of the church.