Go raibh mile maith agat. I was going to acknowledge the absence of Reverend Dr. Clements. I thank the Chair for doing so. We will pass on his expression of sympathy. I know he would want to express his appreciation for that.
When we were both going to be here, Reverend Dr. Clements would have been taking the lead. He was primarily going to be speaking. He has written some words for me to share with the committee. These are his words:
I was looking forward to presenting oral evidence to [the committee] this morning on behalf of the Methodist Church in Ireland and I am very sorry not be able to do that and join in conversation...[The committee] will understand I cannot do so because on Tuesday evening my amazing mother went to be with the Lord and as [the committee] meet[s], I will be taking part in her funeral service. I am sure my colleague, the Reverend Steven Foster, will be well able to articulate some of our Methodist thinking on the matter. Also, the views [the committee] will hear from the Presbyterian Church and the Reverend Dr. Norman Hamilton, a long-time good friend of mine, will echo much of what I might have said to [the committee]. I am sending this short reflection to [the] Chair, Senator Mark Daly, and if he feels it would be helpful, he or my colleague could read it to [the committee] and add it to the record.
The issues [the committee] will wrestle with in this consultation are complex and multifaceted. They include matters that are constitutional, political, economic, social, judicial and all in the context of a long, contested and messy historical background. I am an expert in none of these areas, but if I may, I offer this short reflection for [the committee's] consideration that best fits under a heading like "spiritual" and-or "relational". In my view, it is as important as all the other areas put together. It builds on what we have said in our submission under the headings, "Dealing with the Pain of the Past" and "Building on Firm Foundations".
As [the committee] come[s] to the end of [its] meeting this morning, I will be shouldering my mother's coffin out of the little Methodist Church at Ballynanny, a mile from Ballygawley, to lay her to rest beside my father who was buried in that church graveyard in December 1985. My father was born and bred on the Shankill Road in Belfast. He was a Unionist, though in any self-description he would have put that label well down the list. He was happy to be both Irish and British and an Ulsterman as well, but above all he would have labelled himself as "Christian".
He was shot dead by the IRA on a dark Saturday night in December 1985. I have asked both publicly and privately why he was shot. Usually, I get no answer. Presumably he was not shot because he was a Unionist, a Methodist, a Protestant or a Christian. The obvious answer is that he was shot because he wore a bottle green uniform. It has been suggested that the IRA did not want to shoot "Bill Clements", they shot at the RUC uniform. I like to think that I am not easily offended or angered, but that answer makes my blood boil.
My father loved sport. In a competition for a finals place between Scotland, Wales and the Republic of Ireland, he would, like me, have cheered loudest for the Irish. To see a successful Irish football team celebrate by chanting "oh ah, up the 'RA", turns my stomach.
If I were able to be with [the committee] this morning, [its members] would be asking me questions. Can I pose a question for [the committee] to think about in [its] deliberations? In building any new future for this island, how can we drain the putrid pus of this revisionist indoctrination that allows a new generation to "celebrate" the violence of the IRA?
Let me conclude with one more thought drawn from my personal and pastoral experience. I do so hesitatingly, lest it be thought insensitive.
We have all been deeply grieved by the explosion in Creeslough and [the] loss of ten beautiful people. Over the years there have been other tragic stories of loss of multiple lives in explosions in Monaghan, Dublin and many part[s] of the North. Two touched me particularly. I worked for the Methodist Church in Enniskillen for 18 months in 1986-87. I left in the summer before the Remembrance Day bomb. I knew most of the people killed and the 3 Methodists, I knew quite well. In 1993, I was the minister in Woodvale Methodist Church and on...23 October I was on the scene of [the] Shankill bomb shortly after it exploded.
These two incidents have been much in my mind this week in the wake of the tragedy at Creeslough. There are some striking similarities – the number of people killed, all civilians, both men and women, some related to each other, a mix of ages and a father and daughter crushed together under the rubble. There is one glaring difference though. In Creeslough, the cause may not yet be officially announced but we all presume it was a tragic accident – no one intended to cause an explosion that day. At Enniskillen and on the Shankill it was different. Careful and callous planning preceded the murder of innocent men, women and children.
Every loss of life is tragic and the grief of a family is deeply personal. With years of pastoral experience, and burying my mother today, I know that to be true. But, again with personal and pastoral experience, and nearly 30 years of experience with the WAVE Trauma Centre, believe me when I tell [the committee] that when that grief is deliberately caused by the evil intent of another human being, the burden to be carried is greatly increased.
If we are to build a better island for future generations, whatever agreed constitutional arrangements are developed, we must build on firm foundations having found a better way to deal with the bitter legacy of the past.
May I make some comments of my own?