I took part in a service at Clonard Monastery last night, marking the tenth anniversary of Fr Gerry Reynolds’ death (30 Nov). I spoke from my experiencing of writing Gerry’s biography, Unity Pilgrim.
You can read my remarks below:
Not Worth Much? Or, to the ends of the earth …
It has been six and a half years since Unity Pilgrim: The Life of Fr Gerry Reynolds was launched here in Clonard. In preparation for tonight, I looked back on my remarks that evening, where I said: ‘Writing this book has been one of the most meaningful and rewarding experiences of my life.’
That is as true today as it was then. But what impact has Unity Pilgrim had, beyond my own personal experience of nourishment in learning about the man and sharing his story with others?
I have been reflecting on the last time I interviewed Gerry for the book, about a week before he died. He spoke about the secret talks between Sinn Féin and Protestant clergy, which he and Fr Alec Reid facilitated between 1990-1994. He rather forlornly said, ‘the talks didn’t go anywhere,’ before recovering slightly to admit, ‘the fruit of it was it helped human relationships. It helped to create understanding between people who were ideologically in very different places.’
Similarly, in 1998 he wrote in his journal:
‘Today on house duty I met a woman who had been “shouted at” in Clonard. She’s a widow in a relationship with a separated man – both strong believers. Her use of “hypocritical” about her situation struck me. [Another woman] spoke about feeling “not worth much” and being helped by Al-Anon. Thought I could write a book with that title.’
Not Worth Much.
Gerry’s assessment seems unduly harsh, reached in a moment of weariness after enduring many trials and sorrows, not just in mediation related to the peace process or in promoting ecumenism, but also as a priest providing pastoral care to those disappointed and worn down by everyday life.
All of us here know that Gerry’s story is worth a great deal. Those of you who knew him, or who shared your feedback about Unity Pilgrim with me, can testify to that.
And I can testify that Gerry’s story continues to be told.
At Queen’s University I require students on my Religion and Peacebuilding module to read portions of Unity Pilgrim, as well as other biographies and memoirs of Northern Ireland’s Christian peacebuilders. My work also involves occasional guest lectures that feature Fr Gerry; for example, at the Presbyterian Church’s Union Theological College or for students from the Master’s in Peace and Justice offered by St Stephen’s University in New Brunswick, Canada, who visit Northern Ireland each summer.
Students on the St Stephen’s course are required to read an article I wrote in Irish Political Studies, called ‘Praying for Paisley: Fr Gerry Reynolds and the Role of Prayer in Faith-Based Peacebuilding.’ After my lecture this summer, one of the students, Rev Rob Benson, who is pastor at a Congregational Church in Bar Harbor, Maine, told me that he had been inspired to preach about Gerry’s prayers for Paisley. He’s kindly allowed me to share from the sermon:
‘… As I began to learn about the Troubles in preparation for my study/pilgrimage trip to Northern Ireland a week from now, I found myself despising [Paisley], even as a fellow Protestant clergyman.
And then I encountered this article by Gladys Ganiel … Stopped me in my tracks.
Led me to ask some hard questions: whom do I pray for, and how? Whom do I include? Whom do I exclude? And what is the mechanism of change that I expect from prayer?
The article focuses on Father Gerry Reynolds, a resolutely grace-filled Northern Ireland version of Archbishop Desmond Tutu – and, drawing from his journals, it details his Ghandi- and King-like refusal to de-humanize his enemies – including – as he realized both how important and uncomfortable it would be – including praying for them in public, by name.’
I was moved that Gerry’s witness had been proclaimed from a pulpit in a church that is, incidentally, only about an hour from where I grew up. I can attest that Downeast Maine is a rural place, far from the centres of American power – a bit like the literal and figurative ‘ends of the earth’ to which scripture says we are to witness.
At the launch of Unity Pilgrim, I concluded by reading the final paragraph of the book. I said then and I will say again now that the final paragraph is a ‘commission’ for us to continue Gerry’s work of peacebuilding, which remains an unfinished task not only in Northern Ireland but in many places beyond our shores. It says:
‘One week after Gerry agreed with me that I would write his biography, he wrote in his journal: “I pray for a good outcome to the sharing of my story with Gladys Ganiel.” The story you hold in your hands is an outcome of that prayer. I am certain that Gerry’s idea of a “good outcome” would be that you continue the journey where he left off.’
Thank you for listening.