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Preacherman!

Started by 23 Daves, November 06, 2007, 08:32:48 PM

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bennett

I just wanted to throw in my appreciation for Steve Chalke.  He came to give a talk at my youth group when we were young and actually took the time to sit and have a chat with me and my mate about some stuff and suggested some pretty decent and wellgrounded advice, rather than the usual 'keep on the straight and narrow at all costs' bollocks that everyone else was preaching.  Sound guy.

The best preacher I've ever seen was when I helped out at Crisis Open Christmas with my Dad a few years ago.  We worked with him solidly for four days and he didn't once push his beliefs on anyone.  When I asked him why he wasn't preaching to all the homeless we were helping he said; 'this is my holiday from preaching. I'm still serving, just with my actions rather than my words, don't you reckon they'd prefer it this way round?'.  Nice bloke.  By the way, if you've got nothing planned for the holidays Crisis really appreciate every extra pair of hands they get - it's pretty grueling work, but it's also a lot of fun and you meet some unbelievable characters. 



Mr. Analytical

Quote from: Pogue Mahone on November 08, 2007, 05:48:21 AM
As you're probably well aware, the debate is on-going and the proposed and failed EU Constitution was at its centre most recently. Those of strong Christian traditions sought for constitutional recognition of Europe's "Christian heritage and past", while the secularists wished for a document absent of religious jargon, seeking to keep Europe's piety in the past, or at least demote it to a position of private practice.

  It's easy to forget how few secular societies there really are.  Essentially, it's limited to western-most Europe and bits of America.  All the rest of the world is very much still in the grip of Jesus-mania.  We take the piss out of the Americans for the fact that their country is full of religious nutcases but Europe's no different in that regard.  In Poland, prior to the recent election, gays were mistreated BECAUSE of the Catholic church's opinions on homosexuality.  That should change now but in England most civilised Catholics turn the other way when it comes to more ridiculous aspects of their faith but in a lot of Europe people take it deathly seriously and really can't understand not doing so.

  Paisley's toned himself down in recent years because he's in a position of authority and, I think, he's mindful of what his political legacy will be but he's not just a mild-eccentric.  His political agitation in Northern Ireland has frequently been way past eccentric and into the outright fascistic.  It's notable that the KKK are also anti-Catholic.  When Catholic's marched to demand better political representation, Paisley organised a counter-march on the grounds that the Catholics were being funded by communist agitators.  I agree that he was courageous in speaking out against the undeniably dreadful Pope John Paul II (who once told a journalist that women in abusive marriages only have themselves to blame), especially during a period when everyone adored him but I think we can safely say that his opposition to JPII came from the wrong place.  He actually believed him to be the anti-christ.

Artemis

Here's a typical preach by Steve Chalke - just found it off his church's website. Talking about how being 'christian' is as much about being 'the good news' socially as anything else. Listen here.

I don't agree with what his religious beliefs and usually I'm quite suspicious of hidden agendas of people doing apparently good stuff to try and convert and recruit for their church, but he's one of the very few I do respect for walking the talk.

Pogue Mahone

Even Aleksander Kwaśniewski, a former president of Poland, was promoting the inclusion of a religious tone in the EU Constitution, despite he himself being agnostic in outlook. It's obvious he had his political popularity at the forefront of his consideration, with Poland being such a staunchly Catholic country. Along with Poland, Ireland is still, or at least up until very recently, has been, a country largely influenced by the teachings of the Catholic church, although the nation is beginning to show positive signs of blossoming free from the church's former socially repressive and shameful strangle-hold. Nevertheless, work remains unfinished. For example, the Irish Constitution still specifically acknowledges the "Most Holy Trinity" and "our Divine Lord" in its preamble.

Quote from: The Preamble of the Irish ConstitutionIn the Name of the Most Holy Trinity, from Whom is all authority and to Whom, as our final end, all actions both of men and States must be referred,
We, the people of Éire,
Humbly acknowledging all our obligations to our Divine Lord, Jesus Christ, Who sustained our fathers through centuries of trial,
Gratefully remembering their heroic and unremitting struggle to regain the rightful independence of our Nation,
And seeking to promote the common good, with due observance of Prudence, Justice and Charity, so that the dignity and freedom of the individual may be assured, true social order attained, the unity of our country restored, and concord established with other nations,
Do hereby adopt, enact, and give to ourselves this Constitution.

Likewise, some of the document's more substantive text also contains tones of religious exaltation and subservience to God.

Quote from: Article 44.1 of the Irish ConstitutionThe State acknowledges that the homage of public worship is due to Almighty God. It shall hold His Name in reverence, and shall respect and honour religion

The constitution has also been accused of harbouring sexist undertones emblematic of Catholic doctrine.

Quote from: Article 41.2 of the Irish Constitution1°: In particular, the State recognises that by her life within the home, woman gives to the State a support without which the common good cannot be achieved.
2°: The State shall, therefore, endeavour to ensure that mothers shall not be obliged by economic necessity to engage in labour to the neglect of their duties in the home.

While these provisions could be viewed as mere traditional romantic rhetoric, abortion and euthanasia remain illegal in modern Ireland, in line with the strict philosophy of Catholic doctrine on the issues. The definition of the family and the protections afforded to it as an institution, along with marriage, are positively recognised as following the normative Catholic notion of what a family should be. Single fathers have little say over the direction their children's lives will take at the behest of the single mother. There is shamefully scant recognition for non-traditional family units. Even suicide and homosexuality were viewed as criminal in nature up until relatively recently. Both were decriminalised only as recently as 1993. There is little sign of civil partnership legislation appearing on the horizon, with a constitutional amendment being touted as necessary to introduce such "revolutionary" rights. To make matters worse, the government fears tabling such a potentially-polarising motion upon the public arena. They worry the debate would prove extremely divisive and create long-term rifts in Irish society. Or so they say anyway. Divorce was only made available to married couples after a referendum in 1995, and is still quite a struggle to obtain with the preventative governing procedures and restraints currently in place surrounding it. Still, things could be worse; at least the constitution permits and protects freedom of worship. Similarly, it forbids the state from declaring any official religion. It also must be recognised, I suppose, that Éamon De Valera, the Taoiseach at the time of the constitution's enactment, resisted pressure from right-wing Catholic groups to give Catholicism a prominent or primary position as an established church or to declare it the state's "one true religion". However, De Valera was renowned for his devout faith, and it is highly possible that he felt there was no need to set the Catholic church on a special pedestal of its own. It already had a firm enough grip on Irish social interactions, and to accord it further special treatment might only have stirred unnecessary controversy. It is to be commended that, in 1973, the Irish public voted in a referendum to remove Article 44.1.2° completely from the constitution.

Quote from: Article 44.1.2° of the Irish ConstitutionThe State recognises the special position of the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Roman Church as the guardian of the Faith professed, by the great majority of the citizens.

One could interpret this as a mild revolt against the church as an institution along with its authoritarian structures and nature. Obviously, while people might have been willing to revolt in a secret ballot against the church, its prevailing morality still loomed large and widely governed the general Irish psyche, despite the unknown internal thoughts and suppressed private wishes of each individual. The referendum could well have been a rational reaction to the church's rule, while the continued observance of its strict morality demonstrated a long-standing and ingrained cultural habit. It was only in the mid-1970s that contraceptives became legally available after a famous court case concluded that it was within a married couple's family and privacy rights, as opposed to the state's discretion, to have a fuller say over family-planning matters relating to them. At the time, however, contraceptives became available only via prescription.

There was a tremendous amount of public stigmatism attributed to breaking the church's moral code. Lone mothers of illegitimate children came in for especially vitriolic attack. The Irish courts have still been debating over the family rights, or significant lack thereof, of illegitimate children in the past decade or two. When my mother sees people wearing shorts in Summer-time nowadays, she admires what she describes as their "courage", in stark contrast to the days when showing off a bit of leg would have been frowned upon. I'll admit, it all sounds very trivial and is somewhat anecdotal, but it is extremely telling nevertheless.

To give a further example, girls' ankle-length school skirts are noticeably longer in the Republic than they generally are in the North, where Catholic schools sit under the UK's education system and where school-girls' skirts sit just above the knee. Thankfully then, I was educated in Derry, although the drawback was that I did attend a Catholic all-boys school, so perving on other pupils would have been bang out of order; division by gender was another product of the influence of the church's ethos on education across the island. Schools in the Republic have an historic association with the church. While the church also governed Catholic schools in the North, and continues to do so, it was not as if it was in universal control of the education system and, although given broad discretion on internal matters, ultimately, it could only jump so high as it was allowed. It must be remembered that it shared the scene with integrated and Protestant-denomination colleges. Its inability to create a hegemony for itself in the North saved the moral and social stifling of the North's Catholic population to the same extent as that of the Republic's, although those in the North certainly had enough on their plate with other pressing concerns to be worrying about. In the Republic, the church and the education system were more or less one and the same.

Local sport is also organised along parochial church lines in Ireland. GAA clubs represent parishes split by church-created boundaries. To a similar degree, clubs and grounds are commonly named after saints. In contrast, we see a large number of grounds in Northern Ireland being named after Irish nationalist heroes. Furthermore, local priests act as community spokesmen on the national news upon the occurrence of an event of tragic proportions within the community. This takes place more so in rural dwellings around Ireland than in the urban centres, but it is prominent and noticeable nonetheless. Priests are accorded a great deal of respect and importance in Irish society (and that is why the coming to light in recent years of a multitude of past child abuse incidents so monumentally and scandalously rocked the status quo). Even the Dáil, Ireland's parliament, initiates its proceedings with a daily prayer.

With the church's influence on morality having held Irish society in a strait-jacket over the years and while the remnants of the its balls and chains still clutch onto Ireland's heel, its say on social policy is to a considerably lesser extent nowadays. Its moral credibility has been severely eroded in some circles by the sex scandals.* The church's effect is undoubtedly waning in modern times and Ireland is often viewed as an increasingly free and secular state in indexes gauging the quality of life in states around the globe. There are an increasing number of voices positively calling for greater secularisation of the constitution. Congregation numbers are tumbling and mass attendances are worsening. Most priests are elderly and ageing. Meanwhile, ordinations are rarer by the year. There were nine in 2003, eight in 2004, seven in 2005 and eight in 2006. I'm about to climax. The joke goes that it is the huge per capita number of Polish immigrants in modern Ireland that are actually keeping the Irish Catholic church alive. Regardless, despite the progress, there is still work to be done and the Irish people still have to take full responsibility of their private affairs. This all might sound like an attack, if not an outright onslaught, on the Catholic church in Ireland, but I haven't even properly dealt with the list of crimes committed by its clergy over the years.

Pretty much every negative item I have mentioned above with regard to the Irish Catholic church has been elemantary to Paisley's mantra against a united Ireland. He fears being absorbed into what he views as a staunchly and oppressively Catholic Ireland. The funny thing is that he is just as conservative in his teaching, if not more so, than the Ireland of old. Now that Ireland has become a more secularised society, he, oddly enough, has seemed content to meet with political counterparts in the Republic. It demonstrates effectively the order in which his personal hatreds line up on his blacklist. Catholicism, it seems, would appear at the top, followed by secular "decadence". I'll be fair to Paisley though; I have long been under the impression that his greatest gripe with Catholicism is not in its lay-people or adherents, but rather the hierarchical, idolatrous and institutional structure of which they are followers.

Quote from: Mr. Analytical on November 08, 2007, 12:24:34 PMI agree that he was courageous in speaking out against the undeniably dreadful Pope John Paul II (who once told a journalist that women in abusive marriages only have themselves to blame), especially during a period when everyone adored him but I think we can safely say that his opposition to JPII came from the wrong place.  He actually believed him to be the anti-christ.

Certainly; courage and derangement are not necessarily correlated. The substance is a load of old bull, but, nevertheless, standing alone for your cause like that in such a hostile environment is admirable.

*Fans of Father Ted will remember the shocking revelation of Bishop Brennan prancing merrily along the beach with his secret partner and child. The scene actually imitated very closely an outrageous true-to-life scandal that hit the Irish Catholic church in May of 1992, when it became public knowledge that a bishop had fathered a son with a divorcee in America just over seventeen years previously. Whilst that affair was utterly scandalous at the time, it can be contrasted with a similar revelation of a priest fathering a son in 2006, which was surrounded by much less attention. There was indeed uproar, but nothing like 1992. People are starting to care less and less. Thank God.

lardboy

That's brilliant.  I lived in Ireland for 9 years and was intrigued by the entanglement of the Catholic Church with every layer of Irish culture, but didn't know quite a lot of that.  Is it true that the first communion is part of the curriculum in schools?

Also, with the abuse scandals, didn't the state impose a maximum penalty that the church could face, as a way of ensuring the continued existence of the church?

Catalogue Trousers

#35
Okay. By popular demand, here we go...

Circa 1988, I was living on my own in a terraced flat in Norwich (ground floor), having recently moved out and made some new (non-JW) friends who all seemed to back up my general view of Life that one should attempt to have a liberal and reasonable outlook - not to knock things without having experience of them, that sort of thing.

In which frame of mind, I was interrupted shortly after getting up one Saturday morn by a knock at my door. I answered it, and found myself faced by a pleasant-looking, chubby middle-aged couple - man and wife at first glance. They didn't beat about the bush: the first thing that they asked me was pretty much verbatim the good old "Excuse me, but could you spare a few minutes to talk about God?"

I was on the verge of saying "piss off" when the liberal voice piped up in my head. "Give them a chance," it said. "Think how, although you've mocked the Jehovah's Witnesses for as long as you can remember, you've done so purely due to gossip and ill-informed rantings. Here's an opportunity for you to see what they're really like."

So, I invited them in. They talked for about half an hour about how wonderful Jehovah God (which is how they always referred to him) was and is, and how he wanted nothing but the best for his children. They ended by asking if they could come back next week: I said yes. They asked me if I had anything that I'd like to discuss with them next week; I asked where the JWs stood on capital punishment (not the most pertinent question, but given the number of Christian right-wingers who'll trot out "an eye for an eye" as if it somehow justifies it, while conveniently overlooking "let he who is without sin...", I was genuinely interested to know where the JWs stood on it).

The man looked a bit fazed by this. Nonetheless, he said that he'd try to let me know next time.

Perhaps tellingly, when they did return next week, they didn't have a clear answer either way. What it seemed to boil down to was, "Jehovah God is merciful, but there are times when it is not only deserved but necessary for people to be killed for their crimes". That should, perhaps, have tipped me off. However, there was still enough of a whiff of liberalism about it to make me want to be involved a bit longer.

The next step was a bit odd. I can't help wondering whether it's part of a ploy to make potential recruits feel like extended family, or part of some bizarre positive-vetting period, but they asked me round to their flat for a couple of meals. Fairly low-key on the religion, these: saying Grace beforehand, but that was about it. And a lot of the conversation which ensued was pretty inconsequential chit-chat, rather than God-bothering.

Throughout these three or four weeks, they were also leaving me with various copies of The Watchtower and JW books in general. I threw all of these out when I did cut my ties with them (getting ahead of myself here), but I wish that I hadn't now. All that I needed to know was there, and the more that I read of them, the more concerned I became.

The illustrations are blinkered enough. The shot of Adam and Eve shows the latter as an attractive but obviously evil and conniving bitch, while the former is all macho, politely-bearded and troubled of brow as the dread fruit is proffered. The "last days" stuff is even more telling. The enemies of Jehovah God, Sweet Baby Jesus and good people everywhere are depicted as long-haired men, short-haired women in trousers (although the Norwich JWs seemed a bit more liberal - at least JW women were allowed to wear slacks)...imagine Norman Rockwell filtered through George Rockwell and you'll get the picture. Oh, and among the good people were occasional depictions of blacks and Asians - not caricatured, but decidedly tokenistic and extremely minority. Also, by the way, when the good are saved at the World's end, they'll all get to live forever in eternal youth and talk with the animals. Only 144,000 of them are actually going to Heaven - the rest stay on an Earth which Jehovah God will again make a paradise. And the bad guys aren't going to Hell, to be purified, reformed and eventually forgiven - no, they'll all just die, never come back, and be forgotten. Which in some ways strikes me as a lot worse and more callous than pitchforks up the bum. (Oh - for extra fun - the rider on the Pale Horse in Revelation, according to the JWs, isn't Death, but Jesus - who's heading a sort of celestial posse to head the Satanic bad guys off at the pass. The illo of this guy made him look like a beefcake version of Rory McGrath with a white dye-job. Kind of hard to take him seriously after that.)

Also, the JWs seemed to have a pretty queasy attitude towards homosexuals. Their take on it was that it was perfectly fine to have homosexual or lesbian feelings and urges, just so long as you never acted on them, because that was an abomination. They also didn't like tobacco-smoking (I liked my fags back then - still haven't quite managed to kick them properly yet), but didn't mind alcohol-drinking in "moderation". Moderation, of course, wasn't defined. No taking into account of different tolerances to booze, etc: plus, as I read it, you could piously claim that you didn't drink more than ten pints a week - but were perfectly at liberty to do so by getting completely rat-arsed on a Friday night. The loopholes seemed to be everywhere. And they really didn't like Catholics. It was apparently the Catholics who grassed the JWs up to the Nazis during the Second World War (one jolly Watchtower cartoon of the time shows a fleeing Catholic bishop being peppered in the arse with arrows by Jesus), in case you hadn't heard.

Nevertheless, I was by now involved enough that they started to ask me to Bible study meetings (yes, they do use the King James version, which merely allows them to be blinkered with authority), and the actual Sunday morning services.

By now, I was feeling uncomfortable enough that I didn't much like staying (I never went preaching from door to door, by the way - I was a novice at most), but still didn't have enough from the Norwich JWs that I knew to make a clean and justifiable break. But that came during the services.

These started and ended with hymns: but not proper hymns. No, what they were were sappy, twee little ditties about spreading the word, the sort of tunes that you'd normally expect to hear with words about happy tweeting birds and little fairies in a primary-school music lesson. I became disturbingly convinced that these had been written primarily for children to sing: it was noticeable that even the better adult singers at the services constantly struggled with high note after high note. It all had a definite sickly feel of "get 'em while they're young". (And, on a purely aesthetic level, not one of them was a patch on Onward Christian Soldiers or He Who Would Valiant Be.)

And the main speaker at these particular meetings was a chap who had the unfortunate combination of the voice of a straw-chewing bumpkin and the appearance of William Shatner. He was the spit of old Kirk - the temptation to bellow "KHAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!" whenever he took the podium was strong. Okay, not connected with what he was saying, but made it kind of tough to take him seriously.

But when you listened to what he was saying - dear God, the overwhelming feeling was a near-arrogant self-satisfaction about how only good JWs were beloved of Jehovah God and anyone who didn't believe in him, or follow his teachings to the letter, was bound for oblivion on a one-way ticket. And one of his speeches contained the turning point that gave me the gumption to cut the ties. Among those going to Hell, so he assured us, were "perverts". As if you couldn't guess which group of people he particularly had in mind here, the husband of the original couple that I'd met, seated beside me, turned to me and muttered almost off-handedly "like homosexuals".

I'm not gay myself, but that was the last straw. I went home, posted a letter to them basically saying, "if it works for you, fine: but I can't honestly follow these words without betraying too many of my core beliefs." I did ask if they'd be so strict on not giving blood if someone dear to them was about to die and the transfusion could save them: which was a bit petty, but nonetheless a question that I felt I should at least ask, even if I didn't want their answer. I closed the letter by firmly stating, "please don't bother sending anyone round to try and invite me back in. I'm not interested."

A few weeks passed during which nothing happened. Then, one Friday evening, there was a knock at my back door, and I opened it to reveal a frankly disturbing figure. He looked like a six-foot, over-inflated version of Toht from Raiders Of The Lost Ark - big coat, wide-brimmed hat, all that was missing was the glasses and the red-hot poker. He also had disturbingly piggy eyes, and constantly kept licking his lips. He looked so much like the stereotypical terrifying nonce that it was almost laughable. And yes, they'd sent this child-molester's body-double along to try and make peace with me and get me back into the ranks. I informed him politely that I wasn't interested, like I'd said, and away he went.

Well, thought I, that must be the end of it. Wrong.

A few more weeks passed: another knock on the back door; this time, it was a nice young couple with two young children (primary school age, I'd say - one of whom gave me a little hope by gazing up at my 6'7" and whispering "look, it's the BFG" - so Roald Dahl, it appears, is also permissible to JWs, which is something, I suppose). Again, no beating about the bush: they were JWs, they said: they understood that I'd attended services until a couple of months ago, they said; wouldn't I like to come back, they said...

Somehow, I kept my temper. I was still polite, but very blunt, as I proceeded to inform them that not once, not twice, but now three times, I had informed them that I wanted no further contact with the JWs: that I didn't agree with their beliefs; and that if anyone else came back, I wouldn't be so reasonable next time, not when I'd already sent such a clear message.

That, finally, did the trick. I heard nothing more from them after that.

I'm sure that, compared to the likes of the Alpha Course, the JWs aren't too bad. There are some basically decent people among their numbers, and at least they're not actively picketing HIV victims' funerals with God Hates Fags signs. But, like too many religious groups of all stripes, they do seem fond of picking and choosing to support their own prejudices.




23 Daves

I have a friend whose family were all JW's - as soon as she decided to abandon the church, they abandoned her.  She's not heard a single word from them since, and is periodically tempted to rejoin, not because she believes a word of their intolerant guff, but because it's the only way she would get her family back.

Suffice to say, she's quite messed up in the head.  Her parents aren't even interested in seeing their grandchildren.  Frightening stuff.

Pogue Mahone

Quote from: lardboy on November 09, 2007, 10:57:41 AM
That's brilliant.  I lived in Ireland for 9 years and was intrigued by the entanglement of the Catholic Church with every layer of Irish culture, but didn't know quite a lot of that.  Is it true that the first communion is part of the curriculum in schools?

Yes, teachers prepare pupils for their first holy communion, as well as their first confession and confirmation. According to Wikipedia, the Catholic church controls 90% of schools in the Republic and I have no reason whatsoever to doubt that. I went to a primary school in the Republic, before switching over to the education system in the North just before secondary level, so I made my communion in a Catholic school in the Republic under the guidance of my teacher. The parish priest would often visit. Well, not really just visit, but rather, actually come into the classroom to direct proceedings. There was shame attached to being unable to recite prayers. The notion of a pupil opting out of making their communion just wasn't even conceivable at the time. An air of oddity still surrounds unbaptised children though. Before going to a secondary level college in the North, I completed one year in a primary school there. Here, I made my confirmation, but it was entirely different from the communion experience. The primary school was non-denominational and the Catholics who were making their confirmation had a few hours out of class every week in order to prepare with a Catholic teacher. There was no priest involvement and there was little animosity in the school between the children of various religions and so even if someone wasn't of a religious background, it would not have concerned anyone. Nowadays, my agnosticism isn't really something I worry about a huge amount, although it did make me feel uncomfortable at times back in my secondary level college. Back then, I think I possessed a form of rebellious atheism, but I have since matured on the philosophical debate and, consequently, my stance. I recall one time I decided not to bother receiving communion during a school celebration of Mass. It was a terrible idea. As other pupils walked past me to receive theirs I could sense their ghastly, hostile stares. I just stood out like Linford Christie would running naked across an Antarctic horizon. I always decided to receive communion at school services after that, just so as to make things easier for myself and to refrain from creating a bit of a scene. It was easier to simply go with the flow in such cases than to stand out for something so unimportant and meaningless to me as a little disc of bread. It wasn't as if it was going to burn my tongue and I often got hungry during a long service anyway. In seriousness though, it relieved me of potential tension with teachers or other pupils. In a way, it was cowardice, but it is a horrible shame that teenagers should have been, and still are, placed under such social pressures. Out of a history class of over twenty pupils in my 'AS' level year, we were asked by the teacher if there were any of us who didn't believe in God's existence. A mere three of us put our hands up and a session of verbal insulting followed from some of the others in the class. They called our stance "weird" and were mightily puzzled as to how one could manage to live a life free of belief in God. It was as if some of them had never even once in their lives entertained the idea that such a being might not exist. Of course, we should have been the ones with the philosophical upper-hand and should have immediately struck down their "arguments", but it was hard not to feel like you just wanted the ground to swallow you up in an environment where a belief in God was overwhelmingly the default position.

Despite these incidents which are bound to occur when non-believers are forced to involve themselves in Catholic-orientated environments, Irish society in general has become much more liberal, although my mother often entertains thoughts that I have simply not bothered with God for the vast part of my independent life. The fact is that I haven't turned my back; for one can't turn their back on someone or something they don't believe to exist. In the past, athiesm and agnosticism would have been viewed as satanic and inherently evil. The common misconception still exists in some circles that athiests are unable to lead a morally-rich life. I've never actually had the nerve to explicitly state my lack of belief in God to my mother, although it may often be insinuated when I speak on the subject. Once in my younger days, my sister, who knew, went mouthing off for a laugh though, and it terrified me. My mother, believing she was uttering balderdash, promptly told her to pipe down before any crucial blow had been dealt.

On a personal level, I felt that attending a Catholic all-boys school probably did stunt somewhat my social development with regard to the feminine sex. I wasn't used to interacting properly with girls on a day-to-day basis at all during my teenage years. The notion of socially relating with girls sometimes terrified me and I'd often have turned to alcohol in order to overcome it. I drank obscene amounts in my late teenage years in order to tackle my nerves in social situations. Luckily, however, I have largely managed to get over it and am now a thoroughbred stud, don't you know.

Quote from: lardboy on November 09, 2007, 10:57:41 AMAlso, with the abuse scandals, didn't the state impose a maximum penalty that the church could face, as a way of ensuring the continued existence of the church?

I'm not so sure. By and large, individual clergymen who abused in the past would have lost credibility within their communities. There would have been no need to impose a maximum penalty or prison sentence for individuals to face in order to ensure that there would be enough priests to maintain the church's dominance around the country as it was unlikely the guilty would ever serve for the church again upon the publication of their actions. The people would not stand for it.

However, if you're talking about the imposition of a maximum penalty that could be faced by the church as an institution, maybe there was one introduced by the government. I don't know for certain. Although, such punishment implies that the church, despite bishops often covering up the internal actions of its members, was directly guilty of abuse as an organisation, and I can't say I fully agree with such an analysis. I don't think it's entirely fair that the church should have to foot the bill for the crimes of deviants. The money being forced out of the church's hands as compensation for victims is money that lay-people have donated for the development of their parishes. They are also footing the bill for individual crimes. The abuses were carried out by individuals, who certainly were not following some institutional line that had been laid down by their superiors. Fair enough, the circumstances in which priests had to live might have contributed, but in no way did they justify the actions carried out by some. The church, indeed, often covered up their acts, not because they agreed with them or wanted to protect individuals, although it's possible that certain friendly bishops let the sins of their inferior pals pass now and again to protect friends, but because they wanted to save face as a body. By the way, I'm certainly not justifying their cover-up here; I'm merely explaining how and why it happened. The release of such sensitive information into the public domain would have been disastrous for the standing of the church as a whole, as later events showed. Excommunications or the like would have needed to have been explained. Instead, priests were punished internally by being shifted to another parish in the event of their superiors becoming aware of their abuses.

Such was the hold of the church at the time on every strain of society, the gardaí have been accused of failing to properly investigate reported incidents of abuse. In one case, a case-file and evidence went missing in mysterious circumstances. They simply disappeared without trace or explanation. Similarly, local health authorities have been accused of failing to protect children, even when aware of allegations. Still, at least the allegations have been investigated and Ireland is now a country that mature enough to believe that these things did happen and can happen. The church's reputation as a benevolent overlord is no longer taken for granted. We've moved on from our age of innocence. In Italy, things are different. It has been difficult to gain insight into alleged cases there as the Italian government and the Vatican are signatories to a treaty that ensures certain areas of immunity for church officials.

My own mother, who grew up in the era dominated by the church, actually decided to return to her former training college years after she'd departed in order to confront a nun who had consistently bullied her and was still teaching there. She wasn't sexually abused; just picked on and taunted in a verbal manner. Astonishingly, rather than apologise and acknowledge her disgraceful behaviour, the nun bottled things completely and was shown up to be utterly out of her depth when her position of authority came to being challenged. She actually locked my adult mother in a class-room and left her in there until classes recommenced after lunch so that the corridors would be quiet enough to ensure my ma could be escorted out unnoticed and without causing a stir. My mother should have informed the authorities.

Regarding my mentions of signs that symbolise the church's entrenched relationship with Irish society, little sayings can also demonstrate the church's former status as the nation's moral guardian. My mother, along the lines of "Jesus Christ!" or "Oh my God!", often exclaims "Sacred Heart of Padua" when in shock, while I've heard others scream, "Sweet Mother of Mercy!" These are indicative of a doctrinal background, and such sayings are quite common throughout Ireland.

In relation to the whole thing in general, I think that is why Father Ted was a great comedy; it contained such fantastic satire. It ridiculed particularly Irish Catholic idiosyncrasies and follies. One might have suspected that the writers were tickling over-the-top stereotypes but much of its hilarity stemmed from its grounding in truth. I often worry for the UK viewer. Do you miss out on any of the jokes or associations?

Artemis

Quote from: Catalogue Trousers on November 09, 2007, 07:19:33 PM
Okay. By popular demand, here we go...

That's a really interesting post, there. I only got accosted by the JW's once and knew vaguely about the 144,000 thing. I asked them to explain it, and had them frantically flicking through their bibles on the doorstep, and reading a verse or two to me. When I asked them what it meant, they loosely explained it. When I asked them why God had decided things had to be that way, they bumbled out something incoherant and went on their way.

While in Australia, I came across a really interesting book I think might be up your street. It's called 'People In Glass Houses' by Tanya Levin and I can't seem to find a link to buy it, but it's an account of a woman's life long relationship in the Hillsongs group of evangelical churches in Australia, culminating in their ex-communication of her. Facinating read.

Quote from: 23 Daves on November 09, 2007, 08:08:38 PM
I have a friend whose family were all JW's - as soon as she decided to abandon the church, they abandoned her.  She's not heard a single word from them since, and is periodically tempted to rejoin, not because she believes a word of their intolerant guff, but because it's the only way she would get her family back.

Suffice to say, she's quite messed up in the head.  Her parents aren't even interested in seeing their grandchildren.  Frightening stuff.

Thats interesting but that's not the way it would usually happen. I was brought up in a JW family and was one until about the age of eighteen, when I decided I would go my own way and step out of it. I didnt really believe in it for a few years until I left, but tried to maintain the pretext for fear of upsetting and hurting my parents. But despite not being one of them anymore my parents and family are much the same as they ever were, I still see them often and they certainly havent made me feel any less part of the family.

Interesting post Catalogue Trousers, one small error though is that they definitely do not use the King James Version, they have their own translation called The New World Translation, which differs in small but doctrinally important areas.