Ian Harris Otago Daily
Times July 25, 2014
On the same day recently there
surfaced two very different perspectives on a Christian presence in the life of
modern communities, one full of promise, the other searing.
The morning mail brought the
magazine of St Mary’s-in-Exile in Brisbane, celebrating five years since two
priests and their Catholic congregation marched out of their parish church to
model an alternative way of being Christian in our 21st-century world. It is a
story of courage, community and hope. In the evening the movie Calvary told
of the excoriating experience of a priest in a remote village on Ireland’s
Atlantic coast.
The title, recalling the site
of Jesus’ execution, suggested this could be another Hollywood blockbuster
about the crucifixion, along the lines of Mel Gibson’s gratuitously violent The
Passion of the Christ. Thankfully, not so. John Michael McDonagh’s
screenplay is far subtler, and in its own way carries an even greater punch
through its setting among people of today.
In both Brisbane and the Irish
village the priests are good men intent on living with integrity and compassion
in the spirit of Christ. In Brisbane this led priests Peter Kennedy and Terry
Fitzpatrick to move beyond the mildewed doctrine and ritual of another era to
foster a communal experience that is truly shared and life-affirming.
“A spiritual bond of love and
friendship, compassion and celebration has replaced traditional Catholic
ritual,” says one layman. And another: “We have changed the liturgical
expressions not to be different from those of the Catholic church, but to
better reflect the 21st century and our continuing struggle to live the life of
Jesus, in all our doubts, queries and limitations of understanding of ‘who –
and where – is God.’ ”
In the Irish village, people
are still reeling from the scandals of clerical sexual abuse that have shamed
the Irish church. Yet all acknowledge that James Lavelle is a good priest –
which puts him in striking contrast to everyone else. Indeed, it is his very
goodness that leads one of his parishioners to tell the priest during
confession that he intends to kill him one week hence. As a young boy he was
sexually abused by a priest, his innocence destroyed. Now he wants revenge,
which he misconstrues as justice. But there would be no point in killing a bad
priest, he says. Only a good priest would do.
This is obviously a distorted
echo of the church’s traditional teaching that only the death of a divinely
good man could ensure forgiveness for sinners. And sin, as estrangement from
good, abounds in the village. Father James tries valiantly to stop the butcher
beating his wife, to deter her from finding solace in adultery, to counsel the
young man bent on either killing himself or joining the army so he can kill
somebody else, to help the man of property detached from wealth, life and
family and desolate in guilt.
Quite beyond the priest’s reach
are the cynical doctor motivated by “one part humanism, nine parts
gallows-humour”, the blatantly promiscuous gay man, the arsonist who burns down
the church, the Buddhist publican who takes to James with a baseball bat, the
unknown who slits his dog’s throat.
They all delight in mocking the
priest’s faith and rubbing his nose in the church’s scandals, though he is
innocent of them. He absorbs the derision, visits a serial killer in prison,
cares for an elderly writer. He can also be sharp with a greenhorn
fellow-priest, and at one point drinks too much when the burden of his role
weighs him down. And over all the action lies the haunting threat of James’s
murder with which the film opens.
There are softer moments, but
even they have a darker tinge. Before becoming a priest, James was married, and
his daughter is now a troubled teenager. She is resentful that when her mother
died, he left her for the church. So now she says: “I belong to myself, not
anybody else.” That is the polar opposite of any sense of community.
Yet amidst the village’s trail
of bleak and corrosive relationships, only James and his daughter find moments
of warmth in each other’s company. As James says in another context,
“Forgiveness is highly under-rated.”
In the
manner of a parable, Calvary holds up a mirror to a contemporary
community living without the binding virtues of trust, hope and love. St
Mary’s-in-Exile puts its effort into making those virtues central in in its
common life, and projecting them into the surrounding community. Give me that
option any day.