Take Not His Name in Vain

Belfast, Northern Ireland, is ablaze with massive murals and counter-murals on the side of buildings.¹ They reflect the tensions between Catholics and Protestants. One mural on Mountpottinger Road in Belfast shows a mob toppling the statue in front of the Parliament building. The caption reads, “A Protestant parliament for a Protestant people—no more!”² Meanwhile, in Belfast’s Shankill district, another mural pictures Oliver Cromwell’s troops in action in Ireland, with his words, “[T]here will be no peace in Ireland until the Catholic Church is crushed.”³

Extremists from these two groups have been in conflict with each other for well over 400 years. After leading England to break with the Catholic Church and making himself the head of the Protestant Church of England in 1534, Henry VIII wasted little time in closing the Catholic monasteries in Ireland.⁴ This did not go down well in the land of St. Patrick, and a struggle ensued. Finally, “the English government decided on a policy of planting populations of Lowland Scots throughout the strongly Celtic region in an attempt to make a critical adjustment to the existing balance of power.”⁵ By 1622, around 13,000 immigrants were ensconced in Ulster in the North.⁶

Catholic fortunes improved under the Stuart Restoration, and Irish Catholics were particularly heartened by the ascent of James II in 1685, but William of Orange defeated him at the Battle of Boyne in 1690, and Protestant rule was set.⁷ This lasted until 1921, when Ireland was divided north and south. The North, including Belfast, remained part of the United Kingdom; the largely-Catholic South became a republic of its own.

The current struggle in Northern Ireland concerns the question of whether Ulster will stick with the United Kingdom or join with the Republic of Ireland.⁸ Though many murals couch the strife in religious terms, it is not primarily a struggle over doctrine. It is largely a political struggle. Yes, ministers have been threatened and churches burned, but little, if any, of the violence can be explained in terms of spiritual devotion. Rather, it is the work of unregenerate individuals in both camps.

Of course, it is reasonable to think that God has preferences in world affairs. But one must be very careful about invoking His blessing on causes not explicitly named in Scripture—such as the political alignment of six Irish counties. And the spectacle of nominally-Christian guerillas wrapping themselves in holy language is repellant. In all this, the gospel is lost or sullied. Yet over on Dee Street, a kneeling, masked rifleman of the Protestant Ulster Volunteer Force draws aim above the words, “For God and Ulster,”⁹ while on Dromara Street, Belfast’s police chief, with an SS armband, directs Protestant marchers over a poor figure with “Catholic” on his shirt.¹⁰ From Percy Street to Berwick Road to Hopewell Crescent, the bitter murals multiply, with images enough to fill books, and such words as “Christian,” “Saints,” and “Bible” are commonplace on them.

The factions have their annual parades—the Twelfth of July for the Protestants and the Easter Rising for the Catholics.¹¹ On these occasions, they fly their colors and press their political causes. Imagine, instead, another parade down the streets of Belfast, this one of the Lord and His apostles. It, too, would be one of protest, protest against vain use of the name of God and His teachings, with a reminder that His Kingdom is not of this world and that those who bear the Lord’s name should bear it with grace, humility, and truth.

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