BishopAccountability.org
	Confessions of Priest Who Went to Roam By Steve Gilhooley Edinbugh Evening News [United Kingdom] October 6, 2006 http://edinburghnews.scotsman.com/features.cfm?id=1480542006 In August 2004 I took a year out from my position as parish priest of Currie, Balerno and Ratho in order to decide my future. For a number of years up to then I had been suffering the consequences of going public about being abused by clergy at the junior seminary I had attended as a youngster. Up to that point I have to say that the priesthood for me had been incredible and had taken me down paths I did not expect. Towards the end of the last millennium I was writing a weekly column for the Evening News, commenting on sport, writing for the Catholic Observer, presenting Thought for the Day for BBC Radio, View from Earth for Radio Forth, script-writing for On and Off the Ball with Tam Cowan and Stuart Cosgrove and speaking at numerous events - all during the same period. At the same time I was writing the book Pyjama Parade (which included an account of the abuse) and running three parishes. Never a dull moment! When I look back now there were some crazy situations. At one point I received court papers from a fundamentalist right-wing Catholic group threatening to sue me and at the same time I was being attacked in the Orange Order magazine Purple Star. Imagine that! I managed to unite two opposing groups against a common cause: me. Ecumenism at its best. I upset the BBC when Songs of Praise was broadcast from Faslane because I expressed concern over Christians singing happy-clappy songs at a home of weapons of mass destruction. I sided with the group Catholics for the Ordination of Women and they were delighted - until I shortened their name to COWs. That was me struck off another Christmas card list. I became a target for Hibs casuals when I wore a half-and-half Celtic/Hibs strip at the Scottish Cup final (a photograph was published in the News) and the Jambos' groundstaff wielded their pitchforks at me when I suggested Adidas wellies for the players given the state of the pitch. When I joined Tommy Sheridan on the sunbed of the Scottish Socialist Party one of my "brother" priests wrote to the national press asking for my resignation from the priesthood. "He cannot plough a lone furrow," he bellowed authoritatively, thus wiping out the whole history of the Biblical prophets who were rather adept at ploughing lone furrows. Maybe we were just reading from different Bibles. One of my fondest memories was coming home from a meal with Tommy Sheridan and the now Cardinal O'Brien. When the three of us got into the Edinburgh city cab, the driver switched off the meter because, as he put it: "You guys are one the side of the poor so I'm not charging". After he dropped off Tommy and myself (nowhere near a swingers' club, I may add), he switched the meter back on to take the Cardinal home. Now there was a statement! Probably the highlight of my time writing for the News was the charity dinner I compered with Scott Wilson at the Edinburgh Sheraton. To be handed a microphone and be allowed to poke a bit of fun at Sir Alex Ferguson, Pat Stanton, John Robertson - not to mention Sir Tom Farmer, Cardinal O'Brien and Eric Milligan - was a moment I'll never forget. The speakers that night were brilliant. People still tell me that that was the best football dinner Edinburgh ever hosted. The money raised that night built a school for my aunt's orphanage in Bolivia. I was also invited to speak further afield in places like the United States, India and Mexico. ALL of these things were over and above my routine duties as a parish priest and in 2005 I finally had to make the decision whether to return to the ministry or not. I knew that if I did return to the diocesan priesthood, my freedom to express myself would be severely curtailed (the Vatican had already ordered Cardinal O'Brien to get me out of the media). Given my list of "previous" with the Vatican, I stalled on my decision until I saw who the next pope was going to be. As soon as the white smoke headed for the clouds and the name Josephus Ratzinger was announced, I headed for the hills - I knew it was all over for me in terms of the diocesan priesthood. I resigned. I gave vent to my disappointment in an article in the Irish Times. I stated that this election was a step backwards for the Church. Compassion, openness and truth would all be brushed aside and in their place self-indulgent intellectualism, extreme clericalism and diplomatic blandness would reign supreme. (Mind you, the diplomacy did take a very recent unintended nose dive in terms of relations with Islam.) Nothing I have witnessed so far would indicate that I'm wrong. Before the present pope took over, I heard some bishops over here in Ireland and elsewhere questioning the lack of collegiality in church decision-making. I heard very senior voices calling for debate on issues such as mandatory celibacy, women priests, contraception in the light of the Aids pandemic and sexuality. Has anyone heard a church leader even whisper such things over the last year? No. They all know they will be hammered if they don't toe the party line. It is a tragedy for Catholicism that no-one in a position of authority has the courage to say what they really feel. The Church here in Ireland sometimes reminds me of what I had left behind. I recently heard an Irish bishop on the radio lecturing Catholics in a very condescending way about the dangers of buying tabloid newspapers and how they are filled with filth and all manner of attitudes which would jeopardise the wellbeing of the soul. The situation cried out for someone to ask the dear bishop why, then, did the church award Rupert Murdoch a papal knighthood? But no-one asked. For the last year I have stayed mainly in County Cavan but I have spent time in Mayo, Kerry and Donegal. The main photograph shows me in a town called Cong, where the famous film The Quiet Man was made. The irony didn't escape me, although I have certainly been very quiet over the last year and have spent a lot of time writing and reflecting, a lot of it about the Church. I actually sat down and rewrote the Gospels word for word except instead of writing what Jesus said or did in a given situation, I put in the response which official church teaching would require Jesus to make in that particular situation. What was arrived at was anything but Christianity. Mary Magdalene was refused communion, the prodigal son was excommunicated and the disciples were told to shut up and do what they were told. Just so no-one knew who I was talking about though, I changed Jesus' name to Ben. People tell me to forget about the Church and move on but it's been a part of my life, for better or for worse, since I was a child. I can't just cast it off like an old anorak and throw it away. FOR most of the last year I've been on the dole. All privileges which accompanied the priesthood - and there were many - have been stripped away. I joined a job opportunity scheme last month and was told to sweep out the dressing rooms after the weekend football matches. There, surrounded by dried mud and dirty football strips, I have to admit that I shed a tear or two. That famous night at the Sheraton all seemed such a long, long way away. People have asked me why I took the decision to leave and I suppose it is only now, with a bit of distance, I can attempt to answer. I don't think I protected myself from stress and I certainly allowed situations to get me down, even with the support of fantastic friends and parishioners. I certainly know now that the answer doesn't lie at the bottom of a glass. When one of my best friends, Father Gerry Prior, a priest who was my year mate, took his own life, it affected me more profoundly than I ever realised. It made me question everything. Maybe my way out was to get out. I do not regret my decision to move here, even though the grass is slightly less greener than I thought it would be. I needed a substantial time away from everything that was familiar in order to look at my life. I do, however, miss Scotland terribly and Edinburgh in particular. Currie was where I lived for the longest period of my life and, along with Loanhead, it will always be home. If the right opportunity arises, I will move back, though not as a parish priest. I'm not putting myself in the position again where I'm preaching one thing on a Sunday and Rome is preaching something else. (Maybe Currie Vale FC or Loanhead United need a "sweeper"!). My thanks go out to all those who kept up our friendship over the last two years. Your love and support for me is what I call Christianity.
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