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Considering Grace: Presbyterians and the Troubles
Considering Grace records the deeply moving stories of 120 ordinary people’s experiences of the Troubles, exploring how faith shaped their responses to violence and its aftermath. Presbyterian ministers, victims, members of the security forces, those affected by loyalist paramilitarism, ex-combatants, emergency responders and health-care workers, peacemakers, politicians, people who left Presbyterianism and ‘critical friends’ of the Presbyterian tradition provide insights on wider human experiences of anger, pain, healing, and forgiveness.
The first book to capture such a full range of experiences of the Troubles of people from a Protestant background, it also includes the perspectives of women and people from border counties and features leading public figures, such as former Deputy First Minister Seamus Mallon of the SDLP, Jeffrey Donaldson of the DUP, Garda Commissioner Drew Harris, and former Victims Commissioner Bertha McDougall.
Considering Grace contributes to the process of ‘dealing with the past’ by pointing towards the need for a ‘gracious remembering’ that acknowledges suffering, is self-critical about the past, and creates space for lament, but also for the future.
The first book to capture such a full range of experiences of the Troubles of people from a Protestant background, it also includes the perspectives of women and people from border counties and features leading public figures, such as former Deputy First Minister Seamus Mallon of the SDLP, Jeffrey Donaldson of the DUP, Garda Commissioner Drew Harris, and former Victims Commissioner Bertha McDougall.
Considering Grace contributes to the process of ‘dealing with the past’ by pointing towards the need for a ‘gracious remembering’ that acknowledges suffering, is self-critical about the past, and creates space for lament, but also for the future.
280 pages, Paperback
Published November 1, 2019
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23 people want to read
About the author
Gladys Ganiel
14 books2 followersGladys Ganiel is a reader and writer of sociology of religion.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
January 7, 2020
As I read this book reflecting on Presbyterians and Presbyterianism in the NI Troubles, I genuinely felt I was on holy ground. It is a deceptively easy read but I had to deliberately stop myself from reading it too quickly as the perspectives of those interviewed within it deserve deep reflection (and even, if you believe in such, prayer). As someone interviewed in it as a "critical friend" (and baptised Presbyterian) I see that Gladys and Jamie could not capture all the details or nuances of each participant, but what they have distilled in this book offers an example of what Janet Morris and Johnston McMaster refer to as good, healthy or ethical remembering which reflects diverse perspectives, and offers a context for the experience of grace which might prompt but does not compel repentance, forgiveness and/ or reconciliation. There is repeated affirmation of the roles of individual Presbyterian peacemakers and pastors, although those lauded by some are criticised by others. This diversity of perspective is probably one of the reasons why institutional Presbyterianism is broadly criticised as being largely ineffective politically, both failing to challenge Paisley/Free Presbyterianism and failing to stand up for loyalism/victims. It is an unanswerable question as to whether the "moderation"/"middle of the road" approach of PCI (and other churches) did more to ameliorate the violence, or retard reconciliation. It is interesting that this book is the product of an institution that is mired in controversy over a perceived retreat into theological conservatism. Does this reflection on the abiding implications of the institution's engagement/lack of engagement with the issues that caused and were thrown up by The Troubles, have anything to say to how it engages with contemporary divisive issues? And does it say anything to other churches and civic institutions about their past and present engagement with the world around us?
November 3, 2021
I was reading the local news in October and came across a familiar name: Gladys Ganiel. I attended high school with her, but didn’t really get to know her until my senior year when we ran cross country together. I was always miles behind her, but she was an encouraging and gracious champion of my efforts. From the news article, I learned that she is still an avid runner and discovered she had published a few books, including this one.
Considering Grace explores how faith played a part in ordinary people’s responses to the violence wrought during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The stories are heartbreaking, though many are hopeful. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like to go about your daily life amidst the threat of guns and bombs.
There is much to be gleaned from their stories about how to best help victims in the midst of conflict and in the years that follow. In what ways do survivors and victims process what happened to them? What is the role of church leadership? and What is the role of the believer? in supporting victims.
In addition to victim’s stories, much of the book focuses on whether reconciliation is possible, and the efforts made toward it and peacemaking. It’s a topic complicated by muddled definitions, politics, and criticism of leadership. A bereaved man encourages all to consider grace as a way forward; thus, the title of the book.
Overall, this is an invaluable record of the voices of Protestant victims of the Troubles. As an outsider looking in, I think anyone in ministry or counseling would find it insightful.
Considering Grace explores how faith played a part in ordinary people’s responses to the violence wrought during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The stories are heartbreaking, though many are hopeful. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like to go about your daily life amidst the threat of guns and bombs.
There is much to be gleaned from their stories about how to best help victims in the midst of conflict and in the years that follow. In what ways do survivors and victims process what happened to them? What is the role of church leadership? and What is the role of the believer? in supporting victims.
In addition to victim’s stories, much of the book focuses on whether reconciliation is possible, and the efforts made toward it and peacemaking. It’s a topic complicated by muddled definitions, politics, and criticism of leadership. A bereaved man encourages all to consider grace as a way forward; thus, the title of the book.
Overall, this is an invaluable record of the voices of Protestant victims of the Troubles. As an outsider looking in, I think anyone in ministry or counseling would find it insightful.
June 18, 2025
This is an overwhelmingly sad and very moving book that “explores how ordinary people responded to the Northern Ireland Troubles. It exposes the devastating impact of violence and its effects on everyday life. It also examines the role of Christian faith for people in the midst of conflict, considering how religion could be both a comfort and a burden.” The overwhelming impression I was left with is that healing is a long, often lifelong process, and that forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation. The former can be extended unilaterally; the latter requires repentance.
The interviews raise several shortcomings in the PCI’s approach to the Troubles: a tendency to withdraw; a lack of support for people who were taking risks for peace; a lack of understanding of victims’ needs; lack of understanding of why loyalists turned to violence; and an abandonment of loyalist communities when they were most vulnerable. It is also important to remember that the PCI was not alone in these shortcomings, and that all churches could be subjected to the same critiques. There is also a recognition that the quiet work done by ordinary leaders in holding the denomination together is often undervalued; not everyone is equipped to be a radical.
In looking to the future, the author's suggestion is to embrace “ ‘gracious remembering’ as a way forward. Gracious remembering recognises the need to acknowledge suffering, to be self-critical about the past, and to create space for lament and for remembering for the future.” That seems like a realistic and worthwhile pursuit.
A couple of other quotes particularly struck me:
On sport: “In rugby, there was an Irishness that could be comfortably British and a Britishness that was comfortably Irish.”
On the loyal orders: “I’ve loads of friends who are Orangemen, but they want what I would call at best a benign apartheid. It’s anti-Catholicism, it’s near enough anti-anybody that doesn’t agree with them.”
In conclusion, the authors point out that, “The anger, sadness, and pain that fill these pages should leave us in no doubt that considering grace, let alone extending it to others who have wronged you, is among the most challenging of human endeavours…The stories in this book suggest that one way we might begin to remember in the present is to recognise our shared suffering and to respond to it with lament…as society has become relatively peaceful and some individuals have journeyed towards healing, grief and sorrow persist alongside and as an undercurrent to everyday life. The temptation is often to push people towards healing, forgiveness and reconciliation. But the challenge is to recognise that within communities, congregations, or even within a single individual, a range of complex emotions exist all at once. Being honest about this requires us to give grief its place and to create space for lament.”
The interviews raise several shortcomings in the PCI’s approach to the Troubles: a tendency to withdraw; a lack of support for people who were taking risks for peace; a lack of understanding of victims’ needs; lack of understanding of why loyalists turned to violence; and an abandonment of loyalist communities when they were most vulnerable. It is also important to remember that the PCI was not alone in these shortcomings, and that all churches could be subjected to the same critiques. There is also a recognition that the quiet work done by ordinary leaders in holding the denomination together is often undervalued; not everyone is equipped to be a radical.
In looking to the future, the author's suggestion is to embrace “ ‘gracious remembering’ as a way forward. Gracious remembering recognises the need to acknowledge suffering, to be self-critical about the past, and to create space for lament and for remembering for the future.” That seems like a realistic and worthwhile pursuit.
A couple of other quotes particularly struck me:
On sport: “In rugby, there was an Irishness that could be comfortably British and a Britishness that was comfortably Irish.”
On the loyal orders: “I’ve loads of friends who are Orangemen, but they want what I would call at best a benign apartheid. It’s anti-Catholicism, it’s near enough anti-anybody that doesn’t agree with them.”
In conclusion, the authors point out that, “The anger, sadness, and pain that fill these pages should leave us in no doubt that considering grace, let alone extending it to others who have wronged you, is among the most challenging of human endeavours…The stories in this book suggest that one way we might begin to remember in the present is to recognise our shared suffering and to respond to it with lament…as society has become relatively peaceful and some individuals have journeyed towards healing, grief and sorrow persist alongside and as an undercurrent to everyday life. The temptation is often to push people towards healing, forgiveness and reconciliation. But the challenge is to recognise that within communities, congregations, or even within a single individual, a range of complex emotions exist all at once. Being honest about this requires us to give grief its place and to create space for lament.”
January 10, 2020
I am a Presbyterian minister of an age to have lived and worked through the years of the troubles to which this searingly honest book refers. Many of the names mentioned throughout are known to me, or are personal friends. In this book, some contributors, bereaved or deeply affected by atrocious acts of violence, are critical of the response of the local church or its ministers at the time. Many more are positive and affirming of the care they received at these desperate moments. Some feel that the central church authorities ought to have been more robust in its public statements in these years - notwithstanding the almost weekly condemnations of violence and sectarianism issued by successive Moderators, often while speaking at funerals of victims.
The truth is, we were all learning - developing a theology of what might now be called resilience, but making it up as we went along. And of course we made mistakes, were deficient, perhaps sometimes negligent, and were scared out of our wits. We didn’t have a text book to refer to, other than the Bible, and there was no social media to share our insights.
For many PCI ministers, myself included, our direct exposure to the rawness of these events was comparatively slight, as we mostly worked in places away from the “front line”. (I participated in the funeral of one murder victim - a policeman in 1998, and a school friend of mine was murdered in 1979). But all of us as citizens here who experienced these years, carry the hidden scar tissue which comes from just being here at the time - of living our normal lives in the utter mayhem of Belfast in the 1970s and 1980s.
The book has brought home to me again the primary disciplines of the pastor - to both be with his/her people and to develop the patience to listen to them, out of a heart of unconditional love for them. Almost everything else flows from this - truth can be spoken without editing, tears can be shed without embarrassment, prayer can be offered with integrity. None of this can be done if the pastor is not present. What an encouragement therefore to read of so many encounters of this kind in the most desperate of circumstances.
The truth is, we were all learning - developing a theology of what might now be called resilience, but making it up as we went along. And of course we made mistakes, were deficient, perhaps sometimes negligent, and were scared out of our wits. We didn’t have a text book to refer to, other than the Bible, and there was no social media to share our insights.
For many PCI ministers, myself included, our direct exposure to the rawness of these events was comparatively slight, as we mostly worked in places away from the “front line”. (I participated in the funeral of one murder victim - a policeman in 1998, and a school friend of mine was murdered in 1979). But all of us as citizens here who experienced these years, carry the hidden scar tissue which comes from just being here at the time - of living our normal lives in the utter mayhem of Belfast in the 1970s and 1980s.
The book has brought home to me again the primary disciplines of the pastor - to both be with his/her people and to develop the patience to listen to them, out of a heart of unconditional love for them. Almost everything else flows from this - truth can be spoken without editing, tears can be shed without embarrassment, prayer can be offered with integrity. None of this can be done if the pastor is not present. What an encouragement therefore to read of so many encounters of this kind in the most desperate of circumstances.
April 8, 2023
When engaging in stories of conflict, it can become all too easy to enter an academic mindset only, forgetting the impact that conflict has on individuals and families. This beautiful, painful, and needed text enables the reader to get close and hear the stories of individual people who lived through the Troubles and whose lives still are impacted by the conflict in Northern Ireland. The text enables the reader to put names and stories and real-life, personal impact alongside the 30,000 feet view and study of the conflict. Regardless of one's personal experience with conflict or nationality, this book is an essential read that forces the reader to reckon with the life-long and personal impact that conflicts have on individuals in societies.
February 5, 2020
There is little more powerful in persuading people than the true stories of a person's lived experience. This is true in so many situations but particularly in societies which have experienced bloody conflict, brutality and violence over many years. This is a hugely significant book, sharing the true stories of people from all levels and parts of Northern Irish society, who endured harrassment, bereavement and injustice at the hands of others during the conflict known as "The Troubles". There are many such books written about The Troubles and an endless number of heart-breaking stories to be heard. What makes this book different is that it does not leave the reader despondent at the depth and amount of suffering but holds out hope that there may be a way to gracefully remember the past to create a new and better future for new generations, and biblical principles towards a point where forgiveness becomes possible on a voluntary, but not forced basis. Although focussing primarily on Presbyterians, contributors also include Roman Catholics and Anglicans. The stories are from ministers, victims, members of the security forces, those affected by loyalist paramilitarism, emergency responders and healthcare workers, "quiet peacemakers", politicians, those who left Presbyterianism and "critical friends". Written by a Presbyterian, the approach is appropriately self-critical yet also affirmative. It is ground-breaking in being such a wide-ranging piece of research and evidence (in terms of testimony) but also the attempt to address the deeply personal and sensitive issues of loss, lament, a desire for revenge, and other very negative experiences and emotions yet also to explore forgiveness and grace in the most damaged of relationships. There is a sensitive recognition of the need for a process from lament to forgiveness and the biblical precedent for doing so, yet the impression is that victims' experiences are paramount; it is not in any sense "preachy". As such I wholeheartedly recommend this book as an essential tool in finding reconciliation in the Irish peace process.
August 5, 2022
So many voices in one book - leaves a lot for the reader to consider further.
January 18, 2020
This book was deceptively easy to read in terms of speed but impossible to read without empathy or emotion. Extremely thought-provoking both on a personal level but also for the wider community in Northern Ireland. A really good read.
January 8, 2020
Having served as a Presbyterian minister in Northern Ireland beginning in the early 1980s, part of that time in South Armagh, I found this book moving. It was easy to read but it was hard dealing with so much sadness and tragedy. During my time the massacre at Tullyvallen Orange Hall was still very much a 'fresh experience' casting a shadow over community relations. The temptation for a book like this is to do what our American friends call "Monday morning Quarterbacking" but that temptation is largely avoided. When you are in the middle of these types of experience sometimes the hardest thing to do is working out what is the right thing to do. I have huge respect for those who shared their stories in this book because for many it will have been a hard thing to do. But definitely worth reading and a challenge for those who continue to want to respond with grace.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews