Berkley Center

It was a dreary day in Dublin. But, then again, what customary day in Dublin was ever complete without gloomy gray clouds and the imminent threat of rain? Teetering and tottering, I carefully maneuvered my four-inch black stilettos through Trinity College's treacherous cobblestone Front Square. Dodging a wobbly stone here, leaping across a stray puddle there, I finally arrived at the university chapel's door. Trying to negate the obtrusive clacking of my heels, I silently tiptoed into an empty row and settled myself with a relieved whoosh on the wooden pew. Ducking my head and trying to appear as un-Protestant as possible, I awaited the start of the Roman Catholic service.

Soon enough, a young college student appeared and explained that the service would be short and much more informal than usual since the chapel's regular worship schedule would not officially start until next week, the beginning of the academic term. Despite this friendly welcome, I gritted my teeth and prepared for the expected Irish Catholic reprimand of a service. After all, the powers-that-be in the Catholic Church only began to allow Catholic followers to register at Trinity College in 1970. And, after all, this is the same country that only legalized divorce in 1995. These Catholics must follow the rules of their religion pretty narrowly, I thought.

Then suddenly a little, wizened, old leprechaun of a priest stood before us, twinkling a grin and murmuring the typical Irish greeting, “You're very welcome.” Puzzled by his inclusive gaze and tolerant tone, I nonetheless continued to await the looming hell-and-brimstone threat of everlasting fire, silently longing for my comfortable Southern Baptist church home. I waited, and waited, and waited. The damnations of other denominations, the nightmares of purgatory, the worship of the pope. They never came. Instead, between babblings about the delicious nature of Cadbury chocolates, the priest pursued an incredibly different line of thought. He talked about the Church's tainted history of corruption, and the unfortunate reputation it has acquired in the eyes of the global community. He denounced the ancient practice of narrow-minded thinking that had led to this point. Then, with another twinkle, another grin, he dismissed us for the week, counseling enough charity, acceptance, and open-mindedness to counteract and surpass the Church's past.

For a second, I was stunned. Maybe even five seconds. This is the Catholic Church here, this is Ireland here—one of Catholicism's central meccas. Where was the arrogant notion that this was the sole spiritual option in a God-fearing life? I was truly astonished.

Well, you know what they say about making assumptions…. So, I trundled back to my room, considering the possibility that I had completely misjudged the character of religion as practiced in Ireland. Once I got to my room, I set aside this particular service, saving it in a special box inside my mind's remembrances. I labeled this box "Irish University Religious Service," with a special emphasis on the university. Surely, universities and other centers of academic learning tend to be much more liberal and open-minded than others. Surely, this tolerant sermon had only taken place due to the informal, shortened nature of this initial service. Surely, this had been a fluke, a once-in-a-lifetime exception of the rule. Yet, still, as I reasoned it out in my mind, I couldn't help but nurture a warm, glowing, little hope in an unconscious corner of my mind that I was extremely wrong.

Two weeks later, on a (you guessed it) rainy Sunday morning, I decided to venture out, so I left the cozy boundaries of my new university home and headed for Christ Church Cathedral. Christ Church Cathedral, along with St. Patrick's Cathedral, is one of the two largest, most prominent churches in Dublin; furthermore, they are both of the Church of Ireland denomination. Rather like the Anglican and Episcopalian churches, the Church of Ireland is a natural outgrowth of the Catholic Church. As our favorite research friend, Wikipedia, acknowledges, the Church of Ireland “considers itself to be both Catholic, in that its beliefs and practices are based on a continuous tradition dating back to the early Church, and Reformed, in that it does not accept the universal jurisdiction of the pope.”

Christ Church Cathedral was truly, and continues to be, an incredible sight to behold. The striking, stone-grey Gothic architecture and the lush, green surroundings are only a tenth of the cathedral's extraordinary beauty. Inside, that's where the real magnificence lies. Soaring ceilings, intricate stained-glass windows, elaborate religious vestments...I felt that I had left my twenty-first century dorm room and then completed a very science-fiction-y leap (à la Timeline) back to medieval Dublin. And as I sat in my hardbacked little chair and rested my umbrella on the slate floor, that little glowing hope died. This is it, I figured. Now, I'm going to get a taste of the real Irish religious scene because, heck, if they haven't redecorated in the last millennium, what's to say that they've changed their stringent views and ideology? So, despite my immense appreciation for the cathedral's aesthetic splendor, I was loathe to hear the service and to shatter the warm tolerance bubble left by the last service.

But then, once again, something unexpected happened. Actually, two unexpected somethings. First, during the part of the service called "Passing of the Peace," when congregants are encouraged to turn to those nearby and to offer them a word of welcome/peace/general welfare, we were given special orders: due to the global spread of the swine flu (or more scientifically known as H1N1), we were asked to please not shake hands. Instead (and I almost exactly quote here) we were asked to imitate the Buddhist tradition by putting our own hands together, turning to our neighbors, and acknowledging the divine within each of us.

Whoa. I mean, whoa! Acknowledging the fact that we all harbor a sense of the divine despite our particular religious beliefs?! This is the semi-Catholic church?! I couldn't believe it! I loved it! I was giddy with the shared feeling of global tolerance. Bobbing and grinning, I turned to every one of my neighbors and felt the bubble rise again.

Second unexpected something: the sermon, the message, the meat of the service. Yet another little leprechaun of a man (I swear, I can't make this up) stepped up to the pulpit. He, like most preachers/reverends/priests, began his speech with a personal anecdote. He was discussing the Bible with a lady during a recent gathering, when she began to call him liberal, with the most scathing and dismissive tone possible. “How could you possibly believe that? How could you not possibly believe this?” she seemed to say. And, why this response? All because this little, white-haired, soft-spoken, intelligent reverend did not believe that the Bible was the literal Word of God handed down Monty-Python-like from the Man's big hands.

Whoa. Whoa.

He further discussed the human nature of the Bible's creation. Most parts were written by remembrance, by memory, which can, all too often, be clouded by human judgment or misshaped by mortal mistake. He forcefully and often insisted on the simple fact that there is no single simple certainty in this religion, and, also (here, the smile widened beyond previously believed proportions) that there are a variety of ways to that being we call God, which can not be confined by human characteristics. Who are we to describe God? Who are we to limit God by human description? It is, quite simply, futile.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa!

By this point, I was swimming so deeply in bliss that I fairly floated back down the main boulevard in a “world peace” haze. Yet another assumption laid to rest.

While I came to this country, as a member of the JYAN, to further the message of global religious tolerance and understanding, I am stunned to find that most of the work has been accomplished. So, for the time being, I've set aside all previous beliefs about Irish religious practice. The ancient stereotype of close-minded Irish Catholics has been debunked. Most thoroughly. Dublin, constantly shifting, constantly progressing, has opened itself to cross-cultural understanding, while simultaneously acknowledging the possibility for religious doubt in its own long-held beliefs.

As I further explore this new country of mine from coast to coast, I hope to find the same thriving, progressive character of spiritual acceptance throughout.