My father swore the following story was true:
In the sectarian-charged atmosphere of Belfast, Northern Ireland, my father’s name – Robert Campbell – suggested he was probably a Protestant (and, indeed, he was the son of a Presbyterian.)
One day, in the course of his work for the government, he went to visit a couple in their home. He was shown in and the wife offered to make a pot of tea. While my father and the husband waited, they chatted about inconsequential stuff.
Slowly, however, the husband began to make negative remarks about Roman Catholics. My father decided that he would play along and offered such responses as, “Yes, of course” and “I can see that.” The husband grew increasingly vehement in his denunciations and my father became more and more uncomfortable.
Suddenly, my father felt a sneeze coming on. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and as he withdrew it, his rosary beads fell noisily on the wooden floor.
He picked them up, grabbed his briefcase and fled!
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
Oh dear! Did he think that was someone upstairs trying to tell him something – “grow a pair!”
On a serious note, I’m not sure what I would have done in the circumstances. Being a Catholic, working in government in Northern Ireland in those days, your father would have been in a minority. Taking someone to task for their bigotry during the course of your daily work could no doubt have led to you being sacked (apart from the risk of stoking up other potential threats). If you have a wife and children to think of, life becomes more than a little complicated.
Simon,
My poor father was terribly torn… a loyal employee of Her Majesty’s Government and yet a Catholic.
He reached his career zenith early on in N. Ireland and was offered promotion on a regular basis on the mainland, but he refused to be driven out by bigotry.
His integrity drove my poor mother nuts!
Paul
Paul, I often think of your growing up in “the north,” as my mother would have called it. (Her own Irish-Catholic mother’s family hailed from there as well.) It is so hard to imagine such hatred, bitterness and violence.
That story freaked me out! Today we hear a lot of talk about religious freedom, but to think that having your rosary fall out of your pocket as a reason to flee… Well that puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?
Fran,
Don’t freak out. It was, and possibly still remains, the hand one is dealt if one lives there. And people are surprised that I don’t want to return there?
Paul
I have to confess that my first response was to laugh out loud as I pictured your father gathering up his things and rushing away but then I thought about the sadness of the situation. I pray that one day we will all love so well that Jesus’ desire that we all may be one will be fulfilled. Let’s treat with love and respect people of all faiths.
Lynda,
Better to laugh… my father surely did. It was something that my Japanese friends would often point to – how can I be a Christian if Protestants and Catholics fight one another with bombs and bullets.
Paul
My first thought was “The Holy Spirit! ” with a big smile. Not exactly convenient but always there. And in this story frightening, too, because of the frightful times. Thanks, Paul . Peace.
Madonna,
N. Ireland had/has its own crazy logic. It all seemed fairly “normal” to us, which shows just how sick that society was/is.
Paul
I wonder in which circumstances today one of us would react like your Dad, feeling that one’s safety is at stake. Thank you for the story…
Claire,
A very good question! I know that I am sometimes defensive about being a Catholic here in the States. A couple of years ago, TSA examined my luggage and when the agent saw I’d packed a Roman collar his comment was, “Oh, you’re one of those.”
Paul
When I went to Scotland on exchange as a high school student, I was surprised that it even mattered to anyone that I was Catholic, since very few people back home cared either way. Every weekend, all the American exchange students would pile onto a tour bus and go to some culturally significant place. At one point, we ended up stopped while an Orange Parade went by, and the driver cautioned any Catholics among us to remain on the bus. Maybe he was afraid our rosary beads would fall out onto the street.
Jim,
Bigotry and, in this country, racism continues to confound me. Why do so many people get all upset about the color of someone’s skin? It makes zero sense to me.
But, just today, I heard someone make an Anti-Semitic slur… I was with a Jewish friend and my skin crawled. She, apparently, is used to it.
What a world.
Paul
Paul
I think it is very sad that Northern Ireland was like that but thank god it is
not like it now.
Thanks Fr.Paul for your story.
Phil
Phil,
Not having been there in quite a while, I’ll take your word that it isn’t like that any more.
Paul
Your father tells the best stories! I bet conversations around the dinner table were amazing in your house while you were growing up. It seems he was a good listener, too. I admire his wisdom and patience as he heard the rants of this angry, scared man.
This story about the rosary beads giving away your dad’s “secret identity” made me think of a poster I saw when on a youth retreat in high school: “If today you were accused of being a Christian — would there be enough evidence to convict you?”
No rosary beads are ever likely to fall out of my purse, no artwork in my office is going to give me away, and aside from the pile of books near my bed at home — the circumstantial evidence of my Catholicism is pretty slim. It would pretty much come down to eyewitness testimony. Hopefully, that would be enough!
I am so grateful to live in a time and a place where this is just a thought experiment for me — not a lived experience. I hope one day all people will be free to live their faith without fear.
Denise J
Denise,
Love that poster. I wonder sometimes if I would be convicted… My world tends to be very “Catholic-friendly.” Although, I have to swallow hard when I meet people who think that all religious people are backward idiots. Not that some of us aren’t…
Paul