It’s my sacred right to leave the Catholic Church
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
By JP O'Malley
BETWEEN 1914 and 1915, the Jewish Czech writer, Franz Kafka, wrote the
mesmerising novel, The Trial.
Today, 100 years later, it illuminates the connection between bureaucracy and
power.
In The Trial, a young bank official, Joseph K, is arrested for a crime that
doesn’t seem to exist. He is taken to a quarry outside of his town and killed.
The word ‘Kafkaesque’ is overused by journalists, but it is appropriate in
describing my experience when attempting to ‘excommunicate’ myself from the
Catholic Church. Attempting to leave this immensely powerful organisation is
like being locked in a crystal maze with no exit sign in sight.
Ostensibly, my official attempt to depart from Catholicism started last October.
But the philosophical quest began 18 years ago. As a young boy, the Catholic
Church was vital in shaping my cultural and intellectual identity.
There was a picture of the Sacred Heart in my bedroom. Every night, until I was
eight years old, my brother and I would kneel and say prayers before sleep.
A decade of the rosary was said in the family when someone got sick or when
there was a crisis. As a small child, one Lent I attended mass every single
morning. My uncle is a practicing Catholic priest in Limerick City. And my
father still has many close friends who are priests. All of them are good,
decent, honest men, with strong moral convictions.
Historically, even for all its failings, the Catholic Church played a positive
role in people’s lives.
The rhythms and rituals of prayer divided the day into sections that gave people
meaning. The introspective space of a building provided a place to seek
spiritual comfort, to create community networks, and to enable people to believe
in the idea of a cohesive society with a shared sense of purpose, rather than a
cluster of random individuals.
I recall these positive outcomes, because it’s insulting to the generation that
came before my own to somehow believe that their value system, which derived
from Catholicism, can now, rather facetiously, be seen as farcical.
However, these positive traits, were, over time, supplanted by an obsession with
power.
I made my First Communion in 1992.
This was just one year after the arrest of Father Brendan Smith, the notorious
paedophile priest whom the Catholic Church initially protected, but who was
eventually convicted of several, depraved sex crimes on innocent children: first
in Northern Ireland, in 1994, and then again in the Republic, in 1997.
From aged 12, I had no belief, whatsoever, in the concept of a divine being.
By the time I was in my 20s, I was a militant-atheist.
And after my close reading of the ‘Ferns’, ‘Murphy’, and ‘Ryan Reports’, I was
fully convinced that this was not an organisation I wanted to be associated with
in any way.
It came as a huge surprise to me, then, last October, after I wrote to Reverend
Fintan Gavin, the assistant chancellor of the Dublin Dioceses, asking if I could
formally leave the Catholic Church, to be told that it was impossible.
The official reply I received mentioned that, in 1983, the Vatican brought in a
law that allowed members to defect.
The measure was implemented, I was told: “to ensure that any marriage entered
into after formal defection would be valid in the eyes of the Catholic Church.”
I’ve read this part of the letter many times and it still makes no rational
sense. It’s the kind of absurdity one finds in a legal document: where words
become so ambiguous that they cease to have meaning.
However, there was some information that confirmed what I was looking for.
Fintan Gavin reiterated that since canon law was changed in 2009 “those [former]
defections do not have legal effect.” In other words: the Catholic Church
refuses to allow its members to walk away voluntarily.
When one has no affiliation — culturally, spiritually, or otherwise — to such an
organisation, it’s easy to read this letter with a dose of Father Ted-style
humour. But while the Church and State are completely separate — in terms of the
common law in Ireland — that relationship has never been as simple as either the
Irish government, or the Catholic Church, presently define it.
Since the founding of the Irish State, in 1922, the Church has provided a free
service to the Irish government: a de facto, bureaucratic invisible hand to keep
the population under control. If the Soviet Union had the Cheka to enforce
public morality through fear, Ireland had priests and bishops. The costumes may
have been different, but the theme remained the same: unquestionable,
totalitarian power.
While these methods of coercion were never legally recognised in the Irish
Constitution, the country was, one could argue, unofficially a theocracy until
the early 1990s.
Helen O’Shea, the current secretary of Atheist Ireland, who was able to formally
defect from the Catholic Church pre-2009 — before the law was revoked by the
Vatican — says that in the interests of democratic accountability the Irish
state must operate in a consistent manner for all its citizens in terms of
religious freedom.
“[Many] Irish schools are almost exclusively controlled by Catholic management.
And when places are limited, a baptism certificate is often required. This is
unacceptable in a supposedly non-theocratic state,” she said.
“Atheist Ireland are currently investigating setting up a website, so people can
document their wish to leave the Church formally. It’s very ignorant [of the
Church] to insist on membership when an individual requests the opposite,” said
O’Shea.
Previously, a website, Countmeout.ie, assisted Catholics in leaving the Church.
From 2009, Countmeout.ie’s members could download a form, have a small dialogue
by email with their local dioceses, state why they wished to leave, and finally
defect. In the first few months of the website’s existence, 12,000 people
downloaded forms from it. As Canon Law changed that same year, however, the
website had to cease operating, which it did in 2011.
According to the 2011 census in Ireland, 277,000 people declared themselves of
no religious orientation.
That was a 44% increase on the previous census in 2006.
Which brings us to the question: should the Irish government implement a
facility that allows Catholics to formally disassociate themselves from their
former Church?
The more I thought about this issue, the more appropriate it seemed to bring
this matter to the Irish government.
But the reaction I received from various departments was clouded in more
bureaucracy than the Church.
When I asked the Department of Justice if such a facility could be set up, they
replied that: “The State has no role in determining the rules and regulation of
different religious denominations, including the canon law of the Roman Catholic
Church. All citizens are equal before the law of the State, regardless of
religious affiliation or non-religious affiliation.”
Similarly, the Data Protection Commissioner offered little wisdom, when I asked
if it was appropriate that the Church be allowed to hold onto thousands of
documents that contain false and misleading information.
Having raised this issue several times on social media, I then received a number
of comments, likes, retweets, and emails, from fellow atheists, who shared their
frustration at being prevented from leaving the Church.
One 34-year-old Dublin man, who wished to remain anonymous — but who provided me
with adequate documentation backing up his claims — said that in Austria, where
he currently resides, the state provides a service for citizens who want to
leave the Catholic Church.
In both Germany and Austria, the Catholic Church imposes a 1% mandatory tax on
all its members. This man explained how, as an Irish citizen, he was able, just
last month, to officially leave the Catholic Church with the help of the
Austrian government.
“[In Austria] the state provides information online about how to leave the
Catholic Church,” he said. “I was able to register that I was officially leaving
the Church, simply by returning a completed form.
“The state also provided an online system, where you can register as having left
the Church. I really don’t see why this same criteria could not be implemented
in Ireland.”
After a plethora of predictable and stale replies from official governmental
channels, I then contacted all the political parties in Ireland.
Just one party, however, showed an interest.
Joe Higgins, of the Socialist Party, says that the Catholic Church should
“remove members from their ‘lists’ if they don’t consider themselves a member
anymore.”
Deputy Higgins then brought the matter up in Dáil Éireann, on my behalf.
Deputy Higgins sent a written address to the Minister for Public Expenditure and
Reform, Brendan Howlin, asking if he could consider extending the Freedom of
Information legislation to cover records, such as baptismal certificates, that
are currently kept by religious institutions.
The Department replied that: “A new Freedom of Information Bill is expected to
be enacted before the end of the year. It might be the case that some religious
institutions, or additional bodies run by religious congregations, providing a
service to the public, could be prescribed as Freedom of Information bodies
under section 7 of the [new] Freedom of Information Bill, when [it is] enacted.”
I then contacted the editor of the Irish Catholic newspaper, Michael Kelly. He
said that he would not comment, because he had “little faith that the article
would present a fair assessment”.
Seamus Aherne is a practicing priest of 41 years, and a member of the
Association of Catholic Priests. I asked him if he was in favour of the Church
making it easier for Irish citizens who want to leave the organisation. He said:
“In regard to the State, people note on their census form what their affiliation
is or isn’t. That is the official State paper.”
Finally, he said: “We won’t be grieving. It isn’t important. There is no
restraint. There is no one forcing you to belong [to the Church], JP. I am not
coming after you. Don’t make it a problem.”
My journey, therefore, to leave the Catholic Church, is still, I believe, in its
infancy. And there is still much work to be completed. But I do feel that I have
come to some conclusions, thus far.
Namely, that if the Vatican wants to hold me ransom as a member of their Church
— even if it is against my will — it bears no legal rights over me as an Irish
citizen. So, in theory, I should not be bothered if the Church refuses to delete
my name off their list in an official capacity.
But do we, as citizens, really see everything in such black-and-white legal
terms?
And do we equate civic morality and human identity only with legal pieces of
paper?
Has the abuse of power within the Catholic Church ever happened in a legal
manner? Were the thousands of mothers who were sentenced to a life of labour and
guilt inside convent walls for decades — for simply procreating — sentenced in a
courtroom with a judge? Were thousands of young children subjected to years of
torturous sexual abuse by members of the clergy with the backing of the law? As
I’m sure you are aware, these questions are all rhetorical. But this next one is
not. And it’s worth giving serious consideration: Does the present Irish
Government not owe its citizens — given the unique relationship that existed
between the Roman Catholic Church and the Irish State — a more thorough form of
assistance to help them redefine their secular identity in an official capacity?
Challenging power in society usually starts with a symbolic gesture rather than
an immediate change to the law.
Which brings us back to Kafka and The Trial. The central theme of the book
explores the extent to which power relies on the absolute complicity of its
victims. Kafka’s genius as a writer was his foresight in comprehending that
human beings are amalgamated into pieces of data: usually without their consent
or knowledge.
In Kafka’s eyes, bureaucracy itself is not the person we should blame. The buck
stops at each individual. And until we live in a society where each person is
fully prepared to state publicly their belief system — be it cultural, sexual,
or religious — an egalitarian Republic exists in writing, but certainly not in
practice.
Yes, the State must take responsibility. But, as citizens, we must let the State
know what kind of freedoms we expect as individuals.
That is why we elect them as our representatives.
This seemingly insignificant list of de facto Catholics — located in some
computer hard drive that no Irish citizen is allowed to access — does, I
believe, yield an enormous amount of power: far more than the Catholic Church,
or the Irish Government, for that matter, are prepared, or want, to talk about.
But let us begin the conversation now.
© Irish Examiner Ltd. All rights reserved
Appendix
http://www.catholicdoors.com/faq/qu286.htm
Frequently Asked Questions
regarding
HOW TO QUIT
THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.
Q. 1. Is it possible to quit the Catholic Church? As a child, I was baptised and
confirmed in the Catholic Church. That was not my choice; it was my parent's
choice. Since I left home, I have never practiced any religions. I am an
atheist. I do not believe in God. I want to make sure that the Catholic Church
is not counting me as one of its followers.
A. 1. Yes, it is possible to quit the Catholic Church.
Q. 2. How do I go about doing it?
A. 2. You must file a copy of the "Defectio ab Ecclesia catholica actu formali,"
("Defection from the Catholic Church by a Formal Act"), with the Office of the
Bishop.
An of defection includes 3 sections:
A) an internal act of will;
B) an external manifestation of that act; and
C) communication of the fact in writing to your local Bishop.
Q. 3. What does the "Defection from the Catholic Church by a Formal Act" Form
look like?
A. 3. The following is a sample:
DECLARATION OF DEFECTION FROM THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH
I ____________________________, do hereby give formal notice of my defection
from the Roman Catholic Church. I want it to be known that I no longer wish to
be regarded as a member of the Roman Catholic Church.
I further declare that I am aware of the consequences of this act regarding the
reception of the sacraments of the Church, including the sacraments of the
Eucharist, marriage and the sick and also with regard to burial.
I undertake to make this decision known to my next of kin and to ensure that
they are aware of these circumstances in the case of my being incapacitated.
I acknowledge that I make this declaration under solemn oath, being of sound
mind and body, and in the presence of a witness who can testify as to the
validity of this document.
Signed:____________________________ Address:________________________________
Witness:___________________________ Address:________________________________
Date:_____________________
With the above Form, you should include a letter with the following PRINTED
information:
Your name,
Your full address,
The name under which you were baptised if married since,
The date of your baptism,
The parish Church of your baptism,
Your date of birth,
The name of your parents, and
The name of your godparents.
Q. 4. As a result of this process, will my Baptismal and Confirmation
Certificates be destroyed by the Catholic Church as if they never existed?
A. 4. No. The processing of a "Declaration of Defection" means that an
annotation of this declaration is made in the Baptismal register in the relevant
parish and diocese. The actual data cannot be deleted from the Register as it is
essential for the administration of Church affairs to maintain a register of all
the people who have been baptised. Indeed it is of course a factual record of an
event that happened.
Q. 5. Does the Vatican website have any information on this matter?
A. 5. Yes, you can view the document ACTUS FORMALIS DEFECTIONIS.
To submit your question, please send to our: NEW EMAIL ADDRESS
(On the subject line: Indicate "FAQ" for "Frequently Asked Questions.")