I had noticed during the first semester that my roommate was disappearing every week. I would see him with the kind of look a deer caught in headlights would have, sitting with a Bible resting in his lap. He had begun attending these Catholic prayer groups which seemed to rejuvenate his religious fervour. He had also begun urging me to go – he had sensed the way in which I had let my faith go astray. I, however, was sceptical about these groups. I wouldn’t agree with what they have to say. I didn’t share the church’s opinions on a lot of social matters, and like most people, my trust in institutional religion had been greatly damaged. I suppose I thought that going to prayer groups didn’t necessarily make you a morally informed individual anymore than standing in a garage made you a car.
If I was being honest, I was ultimately swayed to attend the prayer group when my roommate remarked that “they would be good personalities to write about”. Not very Catholic reasoning, obviously. Transformer is a religious course but their set up does often feel like lectures, designed to help individuals connect with the Catholic faith and with a community.
Studying the Bible is, in many ways, attractive to someone like me. I’m an English student, and the Bible is the most influential text of all time. Despite my reluctance, I had also attended something similar to, or so I assumed, this prayer group before years ago, and I loved it. It was called the “Net Team” and was made up of a young bunch of Canadians, about four boys and four girls, that set up weekly meetings in the Christian hall near the Cathedral in Sligo. My childhood best friend convinced me to go that time as well. I was 14. Wandering in there for the first time, with the thought of having to endure their Canadian enthusiasm, gave me stomach pains. But, by the end of the two-hour session, I was hooked. They were engaging and talented, they played games with us, spoke to us, laughed with us and offered us insight into what entering adolescence would be like. They were inescapably friendly.
“I suppose I thought that going to prayer groups didn’t necessarily make you a morally informed individual anymore than standing in a garage made you a car”
They came to my all-boys school, a place nicknamed “Scummerhill” based on its reputation. Soon they amassed a legion of followers. The meetings swelled with boys and girls. Dodgeball tournaments in the hall, late night karaoke events in booked-out cafes. Then, as the spring slowly began to close its petals, they vanished. The friendships, the inter-gender experiences (I only ever went to boys schools), the growing faith and the sense of community diffused out of our systems. I never really forgot about them.
So I went, out of loyalty to that experience and out of pressure from my roommate. It wouldn’t be fair to say I have completely abandoned my faith, either. I go to mass. I still believe. But truth be told even university doesn’t offer that sense of togetherness like the Net Team had and when it comes between going to mass or meeting my friends, there will only ever be one winner. I was told to sign up online first – some things do change. That sets an ironically formal tone to proceedings that doesn’t necessarily represent it. Officially, Transformer is an eight-week course on life with the spirit. They are held every Wednesday evening in the Stein Room of St Teresa’s Church on Clarendon St. It’s coming into week three as I write this.
When one walks in, they get handed a nametag and prayer booklet. The small booklet has a series of Bible passages designed to make the series of seminars more interactive. You read a passage each day between the meetings and record one’s personal musings. It’s important to note that this is referred to as a “charismatic” prayer group which made me imagine the kind of evangelical, speaking-in-tongues Baptist churches in the US. But this, just in terms of the novelty, is sadly not the case. Here the word “charisma” seems to denote more the importance of music and participation. The gatherings open with a set of six or seven Christian rock songs. We sit in a packed function room facing the projector displaying the lyrics of the music, encouraging us to sing along. This, I would learn, is called “active prayer” and the intrigue seems more so squared at viewing the way it connects with the people in the room. People dance and sing. They sing rather impressively, actually. It’s a real meditative catharsis. My friend and I were slightly late so both weeks we have ended up in the front and my overly socially self-conscious sensibility makes me feel rather out of place. Then silence descends and we are asked to make our own personal prayers to God. Seen as I have been observing the meeting, it has made it practically impossible for me to become absorbed in it.
“Transformer is a religious course but their set up does often feel like lectures, designed to help individuals connect with the Catholic faith and with a community”
Then the seminar starts. An articulate and affable man in his thirties named Ronan takes to the stage. He welcomes everyone and cracks jokes about the projector. He offers his interpretation of the weekly passages and informs us of the structure of the evening. There are speakers every week, sometimes brothers making their way into the priesthood, sometimes just regular members of Living Water, followed by a small group discussion. Ronan highlights here the importance of not cutting across any member of the group when they are talking, or disagreeing with their thoughts on any issue or topic. He especially tells us the importance of confidentiality, that if anyone opens up during the session or has a particular perspective that those conversations do not leave the group. When the seminar ends, then members stick around for tea, coffee and mingling.
What is most striking about the meetings is the level of young people. Everyone is welcome, and there is quite the variety of age groups in attendance but the level of people, even those my age, is surprising. In particular, there are lots of women in their early twenties and the overall majority being from their mid-thirties. A rather humorous amount of teachers go as well, even educators need guidance. The Living Water seminars act as a melting pot as well. I met Croatians, Brazilians, Italians. There are many individuals that seem at a bit of a loss in their lives. People away from home, searching for a support and something familiar in an unfamiliar place. Young people in university or working for the first time, trying to find their feet and come to terms with their adulthood. Or adults entering the zone of midlife.
Last week’s speaker Claire mentioned how for years she dreaded the possibility of becoming a teacher, despite life continuously pushing her in that direction. She spoke about how her faith offered her perspective on her situation and when she stopped looking at teaching as not necessarily a step in the wrong direction for her, she became much happier. Living Water offers a routine, a social life, religious support and guidance to many people who are not completely happy with where they are in their lives.
The speaker from week one was an priest in training, entering his fourth year of study. He was good looking, in his late twenties and again, likable. He talked about his home in Trinidad and his study in the University of Toronto. He talked about his past girlfriends and his early job in the Canadian government. But like that of many people, the story begins to get laced with a sense of something missing. He began going to mass despite never really having a faith to begin with. But one particular religious experience inspired him to become a priest and leave his old life behind. This ironically occurred on a business trip. He ends his talk by quoting the lyrics “looking for love in all the wrong places”.
Despite the gender differences, age differences and lifestyle differences, the speakers all share the same sense of dissatisfaction with modern life. This sense of displacement and paralysis often leads people to become unhappy. That’s probably why the seminars have a particular focus on the Holy Spirit. The course is called Life in the Spirit. Many of the opening songs are about the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is repeatedly referenced in the speakers’ lectures and in the passages in the booklets handed out. Inside the Transformer booklet it says: “Scripture contains truth: the truth about us and the truth about God. It reveals the Father’s love to us, His plan of salvation realised in Jesus and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.” What is it? Why is it so central?
“It’s important to note that this is referred to as a “charismatic” prayer group which made me imagine the kind of evangelical, speaking-in-tongues Baptist churches in the US”
I think it’s something a lot of people have trouble with. It’s something I have always found difficult to understand. Its place among the divine Trinity (that is, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit) always confused me. It seemed to be something so much harder to conceptualise than God or Christ. I knew about it from confirmation and mass. I knew about how it came down on the disciples and gave them all the ability to speak in different languages. I knew it was often represented as fire. But I had no real idea of what it actually did. But I think Transformer helped me realise what exactly the Holy Spirit is meant to represent. It represents our sense of purpose and our sense of self. It’s meant to be the direct way in which God inspires us. The Holy Spirit is meant to be the impetus that motivates us. It’s why we studied so hard for the Leaving Certificate, why we consider ourselves unique from everyone else, why we all work so hard for what we want. Its absence also represents the stasis, frustration and anxiety we all feel in modern life.
There is a social theory in anthropology that religion has steadily decreased in the West because capitalism has been replacing it. Materialism not only distracts us from the range of problems with the modern world but it also causes us to build our sense of self around material objects. But capitalism makes us inherently unhappy because a human being needs more than materials to satiate its desire for fulfilment and happiness This theory potentially sheds light on the incredible rise of suicide among young people. In addition, it illustrates the rise in new-age spiritualism, cults, fundamentalism and even yoga affecting the parasympathetic nervous system: the part of the body respondent to meditation. Anything that offers a sense of community and belonging along with an ideology that carries it. Living Water has placed an emphasis on the Holy Spirit because it wants its participants to refocus their own sense of personal initiative. Clare seems to touch on this point: “You don’t have to be your own saviour.” Consumerism has encouraged the rise of the individual and as a result has left us feeling a lot less connected to one another.
“The Holy Spirit is meant to be the impetus that motivates us. It’s why we studied so hard for the Leaving Certificate, why we consider ourselves unique from everyone else, why we all work so hard for what we want. Its absence also represents the stasis, frustration and anxiety we all feel in modern life”
When I sit down to have a chat with the head of Living Water, Cormac – another amiable young man – he also purports the importance of community that these courses offer: “We should be together … that’s how we are best as people.” I ask about the symbolism behind the name Living Water and he informs me that it comes from a passage of the Bible, where Jesus meets a lady at a well: “Jesus answered her: ‘If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” (John, 4:10) In this story, Jesus converts a woman and uses the image of the living water to convey the sense of the Holy Spirit and God satisfying the soul’s need for fulfilment. I ask Cormac how charismatic prayer works in reference to mass, what are their differences what their similarities. He says that the course is meant to be used “in conjunction with mass … not a substitute”. He considers the music he plays as “active prayer” and considers “prayer as meeting God”.
After our chat we returned inside for the final comments of the evening. They thanked everybody who came, encouraged people to give them feedback and we all stood to sing one final hymn together. I’m not much of a singer so I, again, spare everyone from listening to me. I wasn’t needed anyway as there are plenty participating. Over the course of the evening the sense of counsel and community people seem to find at Transformer strikes me. Does everybody have the same interpretation of scripture? No. Does everyone end every evening having a profound religious moment? Of course not. But the numbers between the weeks do not waver. They only get bigger. Institutional religion still seems to have a lot to offer people. These people still seem to be very receptive to it. It still seems to offer hope, guidance and insight into those who search for it. Those in the room ended the night singing the refrain to the final hymn: “I need you every hour.”
I left my roommate to chat to people and then made my way home. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had accomplished something. When I got home I managed to read the assigned passages for next week. Maybe there’s more to this prayer thing than I gave it credit for.
