March-April 1999

Walls That Divide

by Greg Albrecht

Belfast, Northern Ireland

Here in Northern Ireland they simply call them the Troubles. Protestants and Catholics, two streams of Christianity, colliding with culture, history and tradition.

My only other visit to Northern Ireland was almost 30 years ago, in the spring of 1969. It was just the beginning of the current round of the Troubles, a war in which both Catholics and Protestants believe God is on their side. It's one of those emotional and heady brews of faith and fatherland, which always results in bloodshed.

Belfast, 1969. I have not forgotten. Never will. The early stages of what some described as a non-sectarian peace movement. But lasting peace in Northern Ireland is elusive, and this peace movement resulted in violence, bloodshed and death.

Now, 30 years later, my plane descends into Belfast, and the memories come flooding back. 30 years ago, I was a college student in England, and even though I had read about the Troubles in Northern Ireland, I was not prepared for what I experienced.

Then, the greeting committee at the Belfast airport included barbed wire, barricades and soldiers holding rifles pointed at all disembarking passengers. The day after I arrived, I heard (and felt) an exploding car bomb for the first time. I dove for cover. My new Northern Irish friends laughed, retrieved me and explained that the bomb had exploded several city blocks away.

I remember groups of young people throwing rocks at other young people and walls festooned with insulting and hate-filled rhetoric.

But that was 30 years ago. Now, Northern Ireland has two Nobel Peace Prize winners, one Catholic and one Protestant. After the plane touched down, I walked into an airport that from all outward appearances could just as well have been in Wichita, Kansas, or Edmonton, Alberta. I considered that Northern Ireland was 30 years older this visit and hopefully a little wiser. But then so am I. And sadly, 30 years have taught me that some things never change.

During my first visit I experienced the harsh reality of martial law, exploding car bombs, rock throwing and graffiti laden walls. This time, I experienced no overt military presence and no car bombs. But rocks are still being thrown. Walls filled with grim reminders of the division between Christians still exist.

Police stations remain military fortresses designed to repel IRA attacks. Barricades may be pushed aside on sidewalks for the moment, but they silently stand guard, ready for renewed battles in the streets.

Even the casual visitor is not left in doubt when touring Belfast. Protestant areas feature street curbs (kerbs) neatly painted in red, white and blue, proudly proclaiming loyalty and allegiance to the Union Jack. Catholic areas respond with green, gold and white -- the tricolors of the Republic of Ireland.

Elaborate wall murals serve as shrines to the honor and service of paramilitary units who "protect and serve" their individual constituencies, helping to ensure ongoing hostility and religious conflict.

Holy Warfare

Alienation and distrust run deep, and in many residential neighborhoods, strangers whose affiliation cannot be immediately determined are watched by wary eyes. The Troubles are always there, lurking in the background.

I was told about some Belfast boys who were in a rock-throwing fight. An adult intervened and asked them why they were throwing rocks at each other. "We hate them because they hate us" was the immediate answer.

It reminded me of the French explorer Samuel de Champlain. De Champlain wrote about his adventures in the New World, especially in Canada. On one occasion he told of his visit to a town in Nova Scotia that was served by a Catholic priest and by a Protestant pastor. According to de Champlain, the two resorted to frequent public fist fights to settle their different interpretations of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Some things never change. Some of the children of Northern Ireland (and adults) still throw rocks at those they have been taught to hate. Of course, Northern Ireland has no monopoly on throwing rocks. Men and women everywhere, who claim to represent God, continue trying to destroy others who do not agree with them. And sometimes holy wars erupt, with sophisticated weapons giving religious zealots the opportunity to kill and maim in the name of God.

The Christian Century?

It may be difficult to imagine, but 100 years ago many Christians were saying that the 20th century would be the Christian century. One respected American Christian magazine was actually given the name that embodied that hope, Christian Century. Most of our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents hoped and believed that by the end of this century/millennium human beings would learn to live in unity and harmony together.

The 20th century arrived with hope and idealism, but the optimism was shattered by the "great war" -- the "war to end all wars." And if any dreams of peace survived WWI, the twin nightmares of the Holocaust and Hiroshima shattered all hope. 100 years ago, those who looked forward to a Christian century only knew Flanders Field, Dunkirk, Korea and Vietnam as places on a map.

Trimble and Hume

Just a few months ago, on October 16, 1998, David Trimble, 54, and John Hume, 61, won the 1998 Nobel Peace Prize (see page 52). Trimble and Hume are the leaders of Northern Ireland's main Catholic and Protestant political parties. Together, they represent the two embattled Christian communities in Northern Ireland.

The Nobel Prize presented to these two men is significant and meaningful, for peace in Northern Ireland cannot progress without addressing the religious antagonisms at the heart of this deep division, this great dividing wall of hostility.

The Protestants of Northern Ireland are overwhelmingly Presbyterian with religious, cultural and family links to Scotland. Protestants here usually identify themselves as British and are disturbed about talk of a united Ireland. The Orange Lodges of Northern Ireland are a meeting ground for many Protestant men, places to rally historic loyalties. The slogan "For God and Ulster" intermarries religious and political faith. Many Protestants in Northern Ireland view themselves as orange, British and Protestant.

The Nationalists or Republicans are Catholic and have their roots in Eire (The Republic of Ireland). Catholics remember a long history of British rule and inequity going back over 700 years. But it was the decisive Battle of the Boyne in 1690, when Protestant King William of Orange defeated the Catholic army of King James, that set the tone for the ongoing bitter hostilities.

Ireland was formally divided in 1922, when the Irish Free State (Eire) was formed, dividing the predominately Protestant North from the overwhelmingly Catholic South. Catholicism, nationalism and republicanism combine to form a virulent anti-British resentment. Many Catholics in North and South see themselves as green, Irish nationalist/republican and Catholic.

Christian Colors?

Here in Northern Ireland, I have talked with Catholic Christians who identify with the color green and Protestant Christians who rally around the color of orange.

I have talked with those from both sides who have been firebombed out of their homes.

I have talked with members of the Royal Ulster Constabulary, who patrol in armor-plated Land Rovers.

I have talked with those who support paramilitary efforts but did not provide their names for fear of reprisal.

I'm perplexed. How and when did we Christians allow religion and identity with colors to become more important than the cross and the empty tomb?

As I write these words in Northern Ireland, I cannot help but reflect upon an ironic personal point of reference -- my early elementary school days in the American South. My first years of formal schooling taught me about throwing rocks. It was then that I learned that children are taught to continue the wars and battles of their parents and that fighting is never over for humans. I had to wait a few more years to learn that fighting never seems to be over for Christians either.

In the American Civil War, the Confederate soldiers of the south wore gray, and Union soldiers of the north wore blue. In the early 1950s, my mother and I had only recently moved to the south, and in my school (named Robert E. Lee after the commander-in-chief of the Confederate army), I learned quickly that the blue-clad Yankees were still the enemy. Confederates and Yankees -- both American.

Much like those Americans who will not stop fighting the Civil War, peace and reconciliation seem to be empty words to many in Northern Ireland who have lived through a lifetime of violence. Archbishop Robin Eames of the Church of Ireland has said, "To many, reconciliation means weakness, surrender."

"Do You Want to Get Well"

Both orange and green in Northern Ireland know that peace will not come permanently without change. And in those rare respites when peace begins to be taken seriously, its implications are disturbing and unsettling for some. Lasting peace in Northern Ireland will mean surrendering centuries-old hostilities and hatreds. The prospect of lasting peace is troubling, because it will mean that some may not know what to do with their lives.

For many who proudly identify with the green or the orange, hating other Christians of "another color" defines them. For people who have never known anything other than a dividing wall of hostility, peace may be too much of a sacrifice and too much of a change.

Christopher Walpole, president of the Methodist Church in Ireland, sees the 65,000 Methodists in Ireland as standing between Northern Ireland's Calvinist Presbyterians and Catholics. Speaking of the peace initiatives, he once said, "It's going to take a long time, and it can't be rushed. There are so many deep hatreds and suspicions ingrained in the lives of people."

One day, Jesus walked by a man who had been an invalid for 38 years. "When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, " 'Do you want to get well?' " (John 5:6).

It may seem like a simplistic question. But give it a little thought. Getting well involves challenge and change. Getting well means learning and growing. It may mean a change of career. New friends. A new neighborhood.

Getting well can mean leaving comfort zones. Getting well can also involve surrendering cherished traditions, habits and beliefs. Getting well might mean changing cherished traditions you have followed for 38 years.

Maybe that's why the Bible talks not only about peace, but about peacemakers. Peacemaking is not easy when hatred and animosity is part of your culture, language and national identity. Peacemaking and getting well has to happen at the grassroots level. It has to happen in hearts and minds of those who live where the rubber bullets meet the road.

Animosity and grievances in Northern Ireland are intricately interwoven and embedded into history and culture, like layers of archaeological strata. Lasting peace may eventually take an earthquake- like spiritual transformation.

Permanent Peace

If there is to be permanent peace in Northern Ireland, Protestants and Catholics must stop the hatred and bloodshed that they have both perpetuated in the name of God. And this goal assumes that Catholics and Protestants get involved and ask themselves hard questions. Some are doing that, but they are not joined by many who prefer the comfort of the conflict they know to the peace they do not know and perhaps even fear.

Some veteran observers of Northern Ireland believe that no society in which the young live in segregated ghettos, are educated in segregated schools and worship in churches that often simply reinforce division and alienation, can ever be healed of the virus of bigotry that infects Northern Ireland.

Left to our own human resources, we humans will never change. When pressed on the question, we invariably reply that we do not want to get well. Conflict and war can actually be easier and more comfortable than peace.

Once we accept the idea that the enemy is easy to identify (orange or green, blue or gray, black or white), then we are ready to take the next step and pronounce the enemy as God's enemy. We allow ourselves to be convinced that our culture, our views and our cause is just. Our enemy becomes God's enemy, and our hatred is justified in the name of holy war.

If you live in Northern Ireland, you know the process involved in making sense of the Troubles. Demonize the other side, accuse them of conspiracy, accept a one-sided view of history, and conclude that "they" are wrong. Them and us. It's an old human tactic, first played in the Garden of Eden, introduced by a crafty serpent.

Them and Us

Them and us has always been a popular Christian worldview. Europeans attempted to "convert" the Arabs in the Crusades, leaving a legacy Moslems and Christians live and die with today. The indigenous natives of North and South America suffered a similar treatment for over two centuries by European invaders who came to establish the Kingdom of God by force. Hitler's Christian Germany gassed the Jews. The Inquisitions were in the name of God, as were the drowning of Anabaptists and the Salem witch hunts and trials.

During an interview with one politician in Belfast, I advanced the idea that there are Christians on both sides. I further proposed that it must also be true that simple allegiance to one church or one set of doctrines must not automatically produce a Christian. His eyes betrayed his thoughts, as he digested the possibility that I was a non-aligned Christian. It became abundantly clear to me that he thought any proposal that both sides included Christians was hopelessly naive.

The Ultimate Answer

The spring is a great time for us to ponder the hatred and warfare of Northern Ireland. For the dividing wall of hostility does not stop at the shores of the emerald isle.

In some respects, we are all citizens of Northern Ireland. Easter reminds us of the empty tomb -- the victory of the resurrection -- God's ultimate answer to the walls of hostility that threaten to divide and conquer us.

It was in the spring when they said "Crucify him." But Jesus made it forever possible to reverse human violence and hate, because the crucifixion did not lead to death, grief and mourning, but to the new life of resurrection. Jesus triumphed over death and the grave. He did not rise in victory in order for us to use his name to justify bloodshed.

If there is ever to be peace in Northern Ireland, it must be of God. If lasting peace ever replaces the Troubles, peacemaking and peace initiatives must come from the people of faith.

Protestant and Catholic must lay aside centuries of bitterness and hostility and come to the cross and the empty tomb together. We cannot expect politicians to do what the church will not. Paul tells us in Ephesians 2: 14, "For he himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility."

A Dividing Wall of Hostility

If you visit Northern Ireland, you will be urged to see "the other side of the story" and to "look behind the headlines." You will meet wonderful, warm and hospitable people. Irish charm is real and authentic. But you will also witness dividing walls of hostility that will trouble your soul. Many of the brick walls convey messages of hatred that harden already bitter hearts.

Northern Ireland is a grim and stark reminder that the dividing wall of hostility exists between Christians everywhere. When Christianity becomes sectarian and exclusive, it is only one small step from being partisan and alienated. Misguided zeal often spills over into "them and us" denominationalism.

We all tend to gravitate to our part of the "holy huddle." We all are tempted to think of our denomination as best, better, superior and the one with "more truth." Some are even bold enough (and empty-headed enough) to say what they believe -- that their brand of religion is the "one and only true church." The trouble in Northern Ireland provides living testimony to the unchecked logical extremes of too many "one true churches."

It has often been said that religious fundamentalists of all stripes and colors love to hate and hate to love. As a summary judgment of the Troubles, this bromide may be a little harsh and simplistic -- but there is a powerful tide of truth that runs through that turn of phrase.

The Church Must Repent

In the final analysis, Christianity -- both Catholic and Protestant church leaders -- must shoulder the major responsibility for the ongoing strife in Northern Ireland.

It is the church that must repent for the fact that it has failed people of faith -- the fact that it has allowed men and women of violence to fill the void with bullets and bigotry.

Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland are trapped and confronted with the Frankenstein monster of denominationalism -- the brutal and vicious fruit of the dividing walls of pride, superiority, exclusivism and vanity -- all in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

May God forgive us all for dragging his name into our fights and battles.

Jesus gave his life that all of the walls might come down. He lives in the hearts and minds of those who tear down the walls, and who cease fanning the flames of centuries-old division and conflict. 

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