Scottish Presbyterianism's "mother church" serves as an unlikely locus for healing
By B.C.
FOR people whose knowledge of Scottish religion is based on half-remembered history lessons, the "high kirk" of Scottish Presbyterianism, Saint Giles's Cathedral in Edinburgh, seems like an improbable place for an act of reconciliation. The sharp-tongued Protestant preacher John Knox was serving there as minister in the 1560s when he had furious arguments with Mary, Queen of Scots, the nation's staunchly Catholic sovereign.
But for all its stormy past, the 900-year-old place of worship was deemed an appropriately dignified setting for an act of worship at which Scotland's national church tried to ease the rancour left by a referendum campaign that culminated in a clear rejection of independence. Politicians of all stripes were in attendance; leaders of the "yes" and "no" campaigns gave readings from scripture.
"How we voted on one particular day does not define who we are," declared John Chalmers, the church's leader or moderator—a post which changes hands every year, under a deeply democratic system.
Still, many might ask, what does Scottish Presbyterianism—more associated in most people's minds with fiery stands of principle than with compromise—know about managing difference, or holding a fractious family together? Quite a lot, say people who follow the church and its role in politics. For one thing, the church has been struggling to manage some bitter divisions in its own ranks, both over independence and broader ethical issues.
While the kirk as an institution adopted a neutral stance on independence, there were some passionately pro-separation voices within the church, and (rather more quietly) some strongly pro-Union sentiment. Ian Bradley, a scholarly minister who lectures on church history at the University of Saint Andrews, said he knew of parishes all over Scotland where the "elders" or leadership were divided down the middle over the vote. He had also heard many complaints of intimidation, particularly from voters in the "no" camp.
More than 30 Presbyterian ministers, many of them well-known, made a public declaration of support for independence in August. The "yes" sentiment was especially strong on the religious left, fueled by a desire to rid Scotland of nuclear weapons. Yet once the psephologists have combed through the results, it will probably turn out that among rank-and-file churchgoers, there was a clear preponderance of "no" voters. Steve Bruce of Aberdeen University, a sociologist who studies (and believes in) secularisation, is adamant that any such result will prove nothing at all about a causal link between religious affiliation and political choice: all it will show is that churchgoers are disproportionately elderly and wary of change.
Still, there might just be a link between anti-religious sentiment and support for independence. One of the many arguments that was put forward in favour of independence was that a free Scotland would be a more secular country, with no privileged position for any church. That in turn may have propelled some churchgoers, Presbyterian and Catholic, into the "no" camp. What would John Knox have made of all this?
