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By Lloyd Mackey
CONFLICT resolution -- aided and abetted by faith-based activity -- has been happening in various ways in the last few days. Not the least of such activity is the landmark Northern Ireland agreement that brings two old religio-political enemies together to run the place.
Particularly moving was the statement by 81-year-old Ian Paisley, the patriarch of the Protestant side of the battle, as he was sworn in as the first minister of the assembly governing Northern Ireland. His deputy leader will be former IRA commander Martin McGuiness, leader of the assembly's Sinn Fein party.
Paisley noted -- as reported by the Associated Press: From the depths of my heart, I believe Northern Ireland has come to a time of peace, a time when hate will no longer rule. How good it will be to be part of a wonderful healing in this province. This from a person so often described as a "Presbyterian firebrand" who lost no love for the Catholic opposition, who, in the earlier years of the Ulster "troubles", he often described as "papists."
(Note to the uninitiated: Scots Presbyterians are often described as "dour". Their Irish compatriots are "firebrands." But their belief systems, rooted in Calvinism, are quite similar -- and every bit as much in stark and simple contrast to either the liturgies or traditional-based pageantries of the Church of England or Roman Catholicism.)
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The pilgrimage of Ian Paisley is fascinating to trace, and as a keep-the-peace-type Canadian, I laud the fact that he will wrap up his career in a way that helps him to feel good about being part of an Irish healing process.
All the aforementioned passed through my mind when I decided, this week, to call Harold Spurgeon Paisley, the Reverend Ian's slightly older brother, who lives quietly in Alliston, Ontario, north of Toronto.
I first met Harold Paisley in Chilliwack, BC, in the Fraser Valley, when I was a young reporter at The Chilliwack Progress. He and the folk from the "gospel hall" stream of the Christian (aka Plymouth) Brethren had pitched a gospel tent at Chilliwack Exhibition Park. Each evening for several weeks, Paisley preached to around 200 people, some of whom accepted the Christ of the simple gospel he proclaimed.
Keep in mind, this was just a few years after the "troubles" had started, in 1969, and Ian Paisley's face and thundering presence was a regular feature on television newscasts.
I told the Brethren preacher that his delivery and cadence was a lot like that of the Ulster leader. He replied that such should not be surprising, because Ian is his brother.
Harold spoke well of his brother, at the time, although he expressed his own discomfort for politics, particularly of the kind that required vociferous criticism of other religions. He held to his own beliefs strongly, but preferred to proclaim Christ and leave the religious infightings to others.
At the time, I was at something of a crossroads, in my life. I had grown up in the "open" Brethren. (They had gospel "chapels", rather than "halls", practiced open communion, rather than limiting it to their own members and used organs and pianos, which the gospel hall stream eschewed as unnecessary "wooden brothers.") As a relatively young journalist, I was navigating my way through the interface between faith and the world. My recollection was that Harold Paisley's simple message provided a bit of clarity in an otherwise squishy religious scene.
At the end of our interview, I took a picture of him, standing beside the big tent, with its sign, proclaiming that "Christ died for the ungodly."
I took the camera back to the office and processed the film in the darkroom. The photo that I chose and printed up was cropped in such a way so as to have two words hanging behind the preacher -- "ungodly Romans." The end of the sign had included the biblical reference to the text, which was taken from St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans.'
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The brothers Paisley had grown up in a Baptist pastor's home. (That is why Harold's middle name is Spurgeon -- in honour of the great London Baptist orator.)
Ian Paisley made his commitment to Christ as a boy of about six. As a young man he went to seminary, then was ordained a Presbyterian minister. All the time of his studies, Harold recalls, his younger brother had a consuming interest in politics -- but he was still quite capable of belting out a rousing gospel sermon, when opportunity permitted.
For his part, Harold essentially ignored the calls to Christian conversion extended by his father, and, in due course, became a veteran of World War II.
After the war, he came to Christ in a little northern Irish gospel hall, and soon embarked on a lifetime of preaching in such small town halls around the world, or in the tents that they would set up each summer in the nearby fields.
All the time, Harold remained "in fellowship" with his younger brother despite whatever differences they might have. Their bond was the love of the gospel, and their continuing joy in proclaiming it.
So it seemed natural that I should call Harold on the day that, at 81, his brother should become, in effect, premier of the province of Northern Ireland. Two British prime ministers -- Tony Blair and, before him, John Major -- had worked for years, for that day to come. They knew that they had to do something to stop the internecine fighting which had claimed some 3,600 lives over the previous four decades.
And, yes, Harold was, indeed, both proud of and quietly supportive of his younger brother. In a sense, the bond between them has grown, this week, as Ian was able to embrace the concept of using the gospel and political power to bring about healing in a long-time adversarial setting.
Of course, it takes two to tango. And the prospect of peace in Northern Ireland came about as much from Paisley's mellowing as from the willingness of the IRA to officially renounce violence.
I don't expect that either Ian or Harold Paisley will ever feel comfortable in the splendour of Catholicism's cathedrals. And neither will the venerable bishops ever quite understand the need for evangelical Protestants to embrace their diversified forms of stark simplicity.
But, where there is life, there is hope.
That optimistic throwaway line gained a bit of support during the cuppa tea session Paisley and his deputy shared with Tony Blair.
Quipped Paisley, to Blair, 54, who is expected to announce his prime ministerial resignation date later this week: As you're going out as a young man, I'm coming in as a granddad! * * *
Lloyd Mackey is a member of the Canadian Parliamentary Press Gallery in Ottawa and author of Stephen Harper: The Case for Collaborative Governance. He can be reached at lmackey@canadianchristianity.com.
May 10/2007
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Lloyd Mackey is a member of the Canadian Parliamentary Press Gallery in Ottawa and author of Stephen Harper: The Case for Collaborative Governance (ECW Press, 2006). He can be reached at lmackey@canadianchristianity.com. |  |
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