In response to an oft-asked question as to what we as churches or people of faith have to offer in our longing for healing, reconciliation and a lasting peace, I begin by emphasising that none of us from whatever sector we may come, has a monopoly on the things which make for peace (Romans 14.19). To suggest that would be insufferable arrogance. Thankfully God does not confine himself to Church synods, conclaves, assemblies or conferences.

But having said that, I will argue that if we are true to ourselves and what we believe, we do have something distinctive to bring to the table.

For those whose perception of our conflict is based entirely in the context of an historic ‘religious war’ it is understandable that there will be those who will argue that ‘religion’ has nothing positive to offer in our search for reconciliation. Perhaps it is with intentional irony that some would argue, ‘For God’s sake keep religion out of it.’

As one whose whole life has revolved around the Church, I make no attempt to defend the negative and at times destructive role of churches in our troubled history, particularly in the nurturing of sectarianism in subtle and not so subtle ways. But for those of us for whom faith is very personal and has not been compromised by the confusion of culture, ethnicity and politics, we would maintain that the faith we profess and share has a profound contribution to offer, particularly when it comes to ‘dealing with the past’ and providing a personal and collective healing. In our understanding of the gospels we are left in no doubt that the transformation of hearts and minds was central to the teaching of Jesus – transformation so radical that He described it as a ‘new birth’. In a tragically broken and divided world what more persuasive offering have we to bring, Perhaps this is best understood in the sharing of three words from our distinctive faith vocabulary. Those words are Confession, Grace and Forgiveness.

However, living as we do in a secular and at times cynical world, some may see this vocabulary as a bit too ‘churchy’. I have therefor suggested synonymous words and phrases without compromising the profoundly spiritual and biblical concepts at their heart.

Confession/Acknowledgement

In both of our traditions we fully recognise the value of confession at a personal level, be it within the confidence of the confessional or in the solitude of one’s own bedroom. And we are no less mindful of the importance of collective confession as we gather for public worship. But if confession is too ‘churchy’ a word for some, let’s talk about ‘being honest with ourselves and with each other’, about ‘acknowledgement’ or ‘accepting responsibility’,  individually  and collectively, for what has taken place over the past 60 years. Lest I be misunderstood, in emphasising the need for the acceptance of responsibility I am in no way suggesting that innocent victims of violence are in any way responsible for what has been inflicted upon them.

There is a compelling story from the records of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Just before the cut-off hour for those who wished to apply for amnesty, a group of young adults arrived to apply for amnesty for having remained silent and for having done nothing about a situation which they knew to be so very wrong. What a difference a statement such as this would make in Northern Ireland. In stark contrast to the ‘blaming’, the ‘scapegoating’, the ‘whataboutery’ and the denial at which we are all so well practiced, on every side. I would hope that those of us from within the Churches would be the first with both hands up.

Amongst examples of very public and unambiguous acknowledgement was the statement of then Prime Minister David Cameron to the relatives of those who had died on what is known as Bloody Sunday, that the killings were ‘unjustified and unjustifiable’. That apology on the giant screen in Derry’s Guildhall Square was almost identical to the unequivocal public apology from then Australian Premier Kevin Rudd to the indigenous people of Australia for how they had been mistreated over many decades. From Canada there were similar stories of public regret and acceptance of responsibility for the abhorrent mistreatment of totally innocent indigenous Inuit people. More recently from the Basque Country, in announcing an end to their ‘armed struggle’ the leadership of ETA wished to show their respect and true sorrow for those who were killed by ETA and those who were affected by the conflict. For an unreserved apology here we can revisit that offered by Gusty Spence on behalf of the loyalist paramilitary organisations: ‘In all sincerity we offer to the loved ones of innocent victims our abject and true remorse.’

Imagine if you will, the impact of a carefully crafted opportunity in the Chamber in Stormont in which politicians might cross the floor to sincerely acknowledge and apologise for the hurt that members of their respective communities have at various times inflicted on ‘the other side’, either through deed or omission. On 21 June each year the organisation known as Healing through Remembering promotes a ‘Day of Reflection’. It is an important opportunity for all of us to reflect and remember the victims and survivors of our conflict. I suggest that now is the time for this to be declared as a statutory ‘Day of Acknowledgement’, providing an opportunity for all of us, individually and collectively, to acknowledge to ourselves and to one another our part in our troubled history.

Grace/Generosity

In the offering and receiving of genuine acknowledgement there is a need for what is best described as ‘Grace’ before that acknowledgement will make a discernible difference. For many people the most difficult part of the Good Friday Agreement was the provision for the early release of prisoners and the ensuing images of them walking free. It was especially difficult for many victims and survivors and their families. It was not surprising, but yet disappointing that amongst them were many people from the Churches. So I invited representatives of the Churches to a conversation with Brian Currin, a South African lawyer, about his involvement in the South African Commission for Truth and Reconciliation. The first question to him was ‘But what about justice?’ I vividly remember his response: ‘This is not about justice. You cannot go to a widow or an orphan and say we are doing this in the interests of justice. This is about giving all parties to the conflict an opportunity to share in a new beginning, whether you believe they deserve it or not.’ He added that if our word for it was ‘grace’, ‘keep preaching it, for you are going to need a great deal of it.’

If ‘grace’ is too churchy, I have suggested ‘generosity’: an unconditional generosity with no strings attached. The generosity of spirit which makes it possible for us to sit with anyone, including our historic enemies. Even those at Enniskillen; of Alan McBride who lost his wife in the Shankhill Road fish shop; of Maura Kiely, whose son Gerard was killed as he left his church; of Michael McGoldrick, who at his murdered son’s graveside pleaded with all involved in violent word or deed to bury their pride and later spoke of ‘the power and the grace to forgive from the heart.’

Forgiveness

Here I tread softly, for this is the most difficult and sensitive word of all. The last thing we must ever do is to suggest that anyone who finds it difficult to forgive is in any way less worthy than others who apparently can. Having offered less ‘churchy’ words for confession and grace, I have invited others to suggest another word for forgiveness. Neither I nor any others have offered an alternative.

I remember the first visit of the Dalai Lama to Belfast. We were packed into the Ulster Hall to hear a message of peace. Then came the question: ‘What can you say about forgiveness?’ ‘Forgiveness … Forgiveness …’ he repeated many times, looking somewhat perplexed: ‘Who knows what forgiveness is?’ And that was it. In response to the Dali Lama, and from many conversations with victims and survivors, it is those who themselves have forgiven or been forgiven who have helped me to understand what forgiveness is.

A gospel story that fascinates me is of the paralysed man at the pool of Bethesda, where the water was believed to have healing powers. Here was a man who had lain at this pool for 38 years in the hope of being cured. Jesus asked him if he really did want to be healed. Was this not an offensive question? After whatever number of whose hands we may have suffered.

The years we measure our troubled past, and our generosity of Gordon and Joan Wilson, whose daughter died in the Remembrance Day bomb in individual and collective suffering, do we really want to be healed?