Religious Indoctrination Irish Style (Part 1)

As someone who stopped practising my Catholic religion aged fourteen at a time when Mass attendance in Ireland was, er, mass and virtually unquestioned, I have a particular interest in the subject of religious indoctrination. It is a subject which  is now a hot topic, partly because there is a backlash against the Church going on among people of my generation who feel both taken in and let down by an institution that has lost a great deal of its moral authority due to the child abuse scandals. There is also the undoubted fact that as a result of joining the  EU, Ireland has changed with startling rapidity from being what amounted to the last theocracy in the Western world into a typically modern, liberal state that is now preoccupied with throwing off the remaining shackles of its religiously authoritarian past. Indeed the current backlash against the Church is, in many ways, as knee jerk as the former obedience was blind.

My own rejection of religion was partly due to a conviction that religious belief  is irrational, on a par with belief in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and Easter bunny; it should, I felt,  be grown out of in similar fashion. When I announced my decision to stop attending Mass, my mother was appalled. My father however, who had given up his own practice in young adulthood, simply told me to make my case. He accepted my arguments and gave me his backing, which helped me withstand my mother’s disapproval. It wasn’t until years later, for reasons I will shortly explain, that I realised my Irish Catholic education had not succeeded in conveying to me the true flavour of Christianity and that my reasons for rejecting it were flawed.

Despite my youthful atheism however, the career I chose meant that religion would be an inescapable element of my work life. As a primary school teacher in the 80s and 90s I had no choice but to accept  the religion lesson as part of the school day.  I was not particularly happy about that, but the task proved to be more interesting and pleasant than I had expected. Post Vatican 2 Religious Education had undergone radical change from the rote learning of abstract dogmatic statements of faith which had constituted my own experience of R.E., to a new emphasis on the bible.  The focus of The Children of God programme was on the person and doings of Jesus of Nazareth and on his love ethic. I found that my young pupils loved the character and the beautifully illustrated stories that depicted him. This was my first meaningful encounter with Christianity as I have come to understand it, and unbeknownst to me at the time would propel me into a career change that my younger atheistic self would have baulked at.

After about a decade of teaching, I decided that the time was right for further study; it had always been my intention to do a master’s in education at some stage, but having been out of academia  for several years I decided it might be a good thing to take a preliminary part time course to ease myself back into study mode. I found an evening course in UCD in Religious Education which, among other things, would explain the rationale for the radical change in R.E. curricula that had occurred post Vatican 2.

On that first evening in UCD, mandatory bible in hand, I braced myself for boredom but found myself totally and unexpectedly hooked by the very first lecture which happened to be in moral theology, a subject I had never heard of. The course opened up for me a new world of whose existence, despite years of compulsory R.E.  both as pupil and teacher,  I was ignorant: the rich world of theology, and its various categories. Theology literally means talk about God or, more formally, faith seeking understanding. I had been under the mistaken impression that theology was nothing more than dogmatic formulations of faith and had never heard of speculative theology. All doctrinal formulations are the result of centuries of speculation and, contrary to common perceptions, are often open to interpretation and seldom set in stone. Systematic theology analyses and critiques  the development of foundational and important doctrines such as creation, the origin of evil, the divinity of Jesus and the triunity of the one God. Moral theology focuses on the Church’s moral teachings that are derived from theological reflection on the Bible and Church tradition.

It was biblical theology however that was the real eye opener for me. Reading the Gospels in particular acquainted me for the first time with the character of Jesus of Nazareth, a person I  thought I knew but with whom I now realised I had no more than a superficial acquaintance. The Jesus who emerges from the Gospels has a far more powerful impact than the one doled out in highly ritualised liturgical portions during the Mass. Reading the Gospels was, for me, an epiphany and I understood for the first time the meaning of the phrase ‘born again Christian’. The Jesus I encountered there is, to my mind, undoubtedly the greatest and most attractive character in history. His love of humanity was lavished particularly on those who were considered the outcasts of the time; these included prostitutes, tax collectors and people with physical and mental health problems; in that era the former were often considered to be either sinners or the descendants of sinners, while the latter were thought to be possessed by demons. Jesus was non-judgemental, and saw individuals, not their labels.  Unsurprisingly he attracted a strong following among women, many of whom travelled  around with him;  they were an eclectic group  who ranged from those he had cured of physical or mental illness such as Mary Magdalene (often confused with the prostitute who washed Jesus’s feet with her hair) to well off and high status women who supported him financially: “Soon afterwards, he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the  good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza and many others who provided for him out of their resources.” (Luke 8: 1-3). To say that Mary Magdalene was cured of seven demons is to say that she was completely cured of severe mental illness. Where women were concerned, Jesus did not apply any double standard; this, together with the fact that, as Irish theologian Gina Menzies has put it “Women were all over the ministry of Jesus” was yet another shock in the context of the all-male hierarchical Church to which I was accustomed.

Jesus was also a wonderful storyteller who used parables to convey the kinder, warmer,  more just world he termed the Kingdom of God. It was his mission to inaugurate this Kingdom, which  Christians believe is evolving over time. If the words and behaviour of Jesus are anything to go by, the Kingdom is/will also be a place devoid of hypocrisy and fake piety, characteristics he despised and called out wherever he found them,  particularly in the religious establishment of the day. Most shocking of all, perhaps, for someone brought up in the authoritarian form of  Catholic Christianity that predominated in Ireland until the recent past, was Jesus’s sheer unconventionality. He took enormous social risks in ignoring the more burdensome and petty requirements of Jewish Law and by consorting publicly with people deemed the outcasts and ‘sinners’ of the time. This behaviour, combined with his great popularity, brought him to the attention of the authorities and was instrumental in his downfall.

Ultimately my theological studies led me to jettison the idea of postgraduate study in education, and instead I chose to study first for a master’s and then a PhD in theology. Within eight years I had given up my career as a primary school teacher and moved to third level teaching in theology and R.E. I had also learned that whatever I had been indoctrinated in as a child, it was not Christianity.

 If you strongly associate Christianity with a  phalanx of men in clerical garb that represents various degrees of hierarchy, and/or a legalistic straitjacket of negative moral absolutes (thou shalt not..)  whether you are atheistic, agnostic, or a believer, you have been religiously indoctrinated. So what is religious indoctrination, and more specifically what is Irish religious indoctrination? Well here’s a hint: whenever my atheistic and somewhat anti-clerical father encountered a priest or a nun,  all he was short of doing was bending the knee and kissing his/ her hand, such was his attitude of obeisance.

 If you want to know more about religious indoctrination and its causes, read my next post.

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Religious Indoctrination Irish Style (Part 2)

So what exactly is religious indoctrination? Well first of all it’s important to note that such a thing wouldn’t have been possible prior to the rise of modern science that properly began in the seventeenth century with Galileo’s championing of heliocentrism. Most notably, the rise of science precipitated the development of secularism in the Western world. In particular, the new power over nature effected by machine production had a profound impact on religious and theological thought. Natural phenomena that had previously been attributed to the inexplicable workings of a divine mind were now known to be governed by laws that could be harnessed and used for the benefit of humanity. Philosophers were enabled to imagine humanity as self-sufficient, no longer dependent upon an all-powerful deity. Their opinions soon spread to the general public and were quickly assimilated. Belief in a God or gods became optional in the West and with it the possibility of atheism.  Prior to this great leap in understanding of material reality brought about by science, religion was as much about superstition and magic as it was about genuine spirituality. Indoctrination into belief in a transcendent dimension of existence was unnecessary, since nature itself was thought to be permeated with its own magic and mystery.

In the modern era therefore religious indoctrination is associated with the presupposition that there is a supernatural dimension to existence, and that a God or gods exist.  Denominational religious education that focuses  on faith formation is often criticised for being a form of religious indoctrination.  In Ireland most schools are denominational, with Catholicism being the biggest denomination due to our history as a nation. To understand what the specifically Irish form of religious indoctrination is, a quick look at the historic rebellion of Martin Luther will put us on the right path.

As is well known, it was Luther’s criticism of Church corruption that sparked the Wars of Religion and the Reformation, although the appetite for reform had been growing in Europe during the previous centuries. He was brought up during the outrageously corrupt papacy of the Borgias at a time when Christianity was characterised by a strong emphasis on hell, damnation and how to avoid it. During the medieval era in Europe Christianity was rather like what Islam is now, a political and powerfully cultural force as well as a religious one. The safest route to salvation was held to be the religious life, at that time considered vastly superior to all forms of lay existence. Luther, a sensitive child, suffered from religious terrors. As a young man he showed no desire to enter the religious life; he was exceptionally clever and enrolled to study law at the university of Erfurt. His father, a miner, expected that the young Martin would do well and support him in old age. Fate, however, intervened and Luther’s life took a dramatically different course. Returning to university after a weekend visiting his family, Luther was struck by a bolt of lightning. Terrified that he would die, he prayed to St. Anne, the patron saint of miners, to save him, and promised to enter the religious life if she did. Having survived the lightning bolt, Luther swiftly entered a strict Augustinian order and began to study for the priesthood. His religious terrors did not leave him however, and he was dogged by a constant sense of unworthiness before God.  Years of spiritual struggle followed, which even included a trip to Rome to gain an indulgence.

Luther was eventually saved from his torment when his confessor and the vicar of his Augustinian order encouraged him to study theology and take the chair of Scripture at the university of Wittenberg  At that time Bible study was not an important part of theological formation and it was inaccessible to the vast majority of Christians due to the fact that it was written in Latin. His studying of the Bible would change Luther’s life for ever, and was the catalyst for his posting of his 95 theses on the Castle Church door at Wittenberg. But it was his encounter with the humble, compassionate and socially radical Jesus that reassured Luther and healed him of his spiritual travails.  It also caused him to cast a critical eye on his Church, which now struck him as falling very far short of the Christian ideal epitomised by Jesus, since it instilled fear rather than love. Perhaps most of all, Luther developed a heightened awareness of the hierarchical nature of the Church especially in relation to the clerical-lay divide. At that time the monastic/clerical state – largely due to the requirement for  celibacy – was considered to be both spiritually and morally superior to the lay one, which gave rise to an elitist clerical caste and a passive, religiously inferior laity.  Luther’s encounter with the Bible also convinced him that every individual Christian should have access to it and via the text to God, without the need for a priestly intermediary. This powerful conviction led him to translate the Bible into German (creating modern vernacular German as he did so) and to abolish, in his reformed version of Christianity, celibacy and along with it religious orders both male and female. Liturgical celebration became a Service rather than a Mass, the priestly celebrant a minister or pastor, and there was a greater emphasis on the word of God and the preaching of it than on the Eucharist. Luther still held to the real presence of Christ, but his theological approach was that this occurred due to the action of the entire congregation rather than the celebrant alone. Drawing on scriptural texts such as 1 Peter 2:5 (“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation…”)  Luther in fact declared the priesthood of all believers. The idea that every Christian believer is a priest means that there is no hierarchy with regard to a person’s role in life; laypersons and clergy have equal rights and responsibilities to proclaim the good news of the  Gospels. God calls us all according to our gifts so it is not necessary to work in ordained ministry to bear witness to Christ.

Long before he initiated all of these changes, however, Luther’s calling out of the Church hierarchy on the corrupt practice of selling indulgences along with his new theologies brought him to the attention of Pope Leo X and the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. When he refused to recant his writings, he was excommunicated by the Pope and declared an outlaw of the Empire by Charles. This meant in effect that anyone who wanted to could kill him without threat of punishment. Fortunately for Luther he had a powerful ally in his sovereign Elector Friedrich the Wise of Saxony; the latter staged a false kidnapping of Luther and the beleaguered monk was enabled to recover from his trauma in Wartburg Castle where he remained for about a year. In standing up to the two most powerful men of the era at the risk of his life and reputation, Luther had certainly embraced the risks that authentic Christian faith can entail.

Vatican 2 was, in many ways, a belated recognition of Luther’s reforms. This can be seen above all in its new emphasis on Christology, on the importance of the Bible  in religious education, its abandoning of the Latin Mass in favour of Masses said in the language of the people, and in its permitting the laity to be ministers of the eucharist and to hold the host. Prior to Vatican 2, only the priest was allowed to touch the host, which meant placing it on the tongue of the recipient. Lumen Gentium, a document of Vatican 2, highlights the importance of the role of the laity in the Church and emphasises the priesthood of all believers. The main difference between the Catholic Church and Protestant Churches on the matter is that the many of the latter reject the ordained priesthood. Overall, the trend initiated by Luther in the medieval period harks back to the early Church, when there was no clear demarcation between priests and bishops on the one hand, and laypeople on the other. The former tended to live in the same way as everyone else, tending to their livelihoods, marrying and rearing families. It was only when the Church became the state religion of the Roman Empire under Constantine that strict demarcation between both classes emerged along with elaborate ecclesial structures.

Due to its mix of Christian denominations, the U.S. is perhaps the best present day example of what Luther had in mind. My first trip there was an eye-opener for me as well as something of a culture shock. The sight of lay preachers on tv – even female ones – almost made me feel that I had arrived on another planet. Protestant denominations like Methodism, for example, have male and female lay preachers,  a revolutionary development that goes back to its founder, Wesley; In the States evangelical Christianity also fields lay preachers and then, of course there are the televangelists. These ministers can be attached to a Church or self-proclaimed, and many of them – like Billy Graham, Gerry Bakker and Jerry Falwell – become very famous, even if not always for the most wholesome of reasons. There are also famous female televangelists,  such as Joyce Meyer, Marilyn Hickey and Aimee Semple McPherson. The latter, who became famous in the early 20th century, was a pioneer, especially in the use of modern media, and even founded her own Church. Founding one’s own Church in America is not unusual; indeed most of the first black churches founded before the 19th century were begun by free blacks.

My visits to the US, which included two summers spent at Fordham, a Jesuit University in the Bronx, introduced me to a kind of dynamic Christianity that I had never before encountered. This includes the Catholic denomination also; as one of my lecturers, the leading religious education theorist Gabriel Moran explained to us, in the US Catholicism has been so influenced by the denominational mix in the country that it is something of a hybrid in practice. No doubt the strict separation of Church and State where religion is concerned has also contributed to the unselfconscious, non-pious enthusiasm regarding Christianity that I found so refreshing and so different to what I was used to here in Ireland where proclaiming and/or preaching about one’s religious beliefs  is considered to be the exclusive province of professional religious and is generally restricted to liturgical settings.  To understand the difference between here and somewhere like the US, you only have to think of the sensation caused when Marty Morrissey recently gave an inspirational talk  at a Knock novena, an event that became a national talking point and sparked a great deal of outrage. In the US, no one would have batted an eyelid at such an occurrence.

As should by now be clear, religious indoctrination where Christianity is concerned relates, not to the religion itself, but to Christian ecclesial institutions when they become ends in themselves. As Christians, our faith should be in Jesus of Nazareth and not in an institution. Jesus himself lived simply and dressed as others did. Is there really a need for the elaborate costumery that characterises some  Christian denominations, most notably perhaps Catholicism? Whenever  I see yet another newspaper article on the Church that is illustrated by pictures of red hatted and elaborately dressed cardinals I feel like saying “With all due respect to the good and necessary administrative and liturgical work that you do, could you move aside please? This isn’t really about you, we’re here to see someone else”.

As regards the legalistic straitjacket of rules and norms which is as closely associated with Catholic Christianity as are its elaborate ecclesial structures, in this area too the Church is very far removed from the simplicity of the Nazarene. Jesus delivered an uncomplicated message which can be briefly articulated: love others, be kind to the less fortunate, stand up for the underdog, be peaceful, honest, humble and forgiving. He saw himself as a reformer of the ultra legalistic Judaism of his era, and preached against the tyranny of overly strict rules. This is not to say that Jesus was an anarchist or dismissed rules as unimportant, in  his own words he had come ‘not to abolish the Law, but to fulfil it’. This means living by the spirit, not the letter of the law, avoiding petty restrictions,  and knowing when it can be transcended and when exceptions can be made. It also means that the emphasis is a positive one; doing unto others as you would have them do unto you will make negative ‘thou shalt not’ rules  redundant.

In Ireland,  as a result of our colonial history which involved the oppression of the overwhelmingly Catholic population, the Church gained far too much political power and influence for its own good after independence was achieved. There has also always been an institutional opposition to theological speculation here, the powers that be preferring a passive, acquiescent laity. The Irish Universities Act of 1908 prohibited any state funding to be directed towards theological studies depriving generations of Irish people of any intellectual engagement with theology. Most European countries provide financially for faculties of theology and in the US college students are expected to take either philosophy or theology as a minor. Imposed intellectual passivity along with a homogenous religious environment, has engendered a strong perception here of the institutional Church and Christianity as one and the same thing. The backlash now occurring against it is not against Christianity as a religion, but against an institution that for too long had too much power.

 Change however, despite perceptions, is well underway. Although we have yet to see ‘the age of the laity’ heralded by Vatican 2 emerge in any meaningful way, the tide is turning. A whole generation of young people has grown up in Ireland with a religious education programme that emphasises the person of Jesus, and in an environment that is no longer theocratic and overly authoritarian. The backlash now occurring will die out with the present baby boomer generation. By then, the lack of vocations throughout the Western world will have created an existential necessity for lay involvement in the Church, and this trend will contribute to the changes already occurring in the Irish Church. Who knows what the shape of the future Church will be? One can only hope that it will be simple and non-censorious like its founder, with clergy and laity united as one people of God. It should go  without saying that women will have to have a far stronger presence in the Church of the future, but  this will probably be the greatest battle of all and the most crucial one.

 Such a transformation would dispense with any form of religious indoctrination. For a Christian Church that is truly representative of Christianity, indoctrination  is impossible. A Christian has to be prepared to take social risks if necessary and even share in the contempt suffered by Jesus himself if called upon to do so. The emphasis will turn to the person of Jesus and the question of his divinity.  (“Who do you say that I am?” Peter answered “God’s Messiah” ). Religious adherence will then result from critical reflection for those who need it, and choice as well as faith.

It’s Not as Bad as You Think: Women in Catholicism

imageIt’s Not as Bad as You Think: Women in Catholicism

The discovery of blogs and blogging has opened up a whole new world for women working and writing in the religious domain. This is due to its openness and speed, the fact that it provides a platform for ecumenical and interreligious dialogue, and the ease with which it facilitates the mutual interpenetration of religious feminism with mainstream, political feminism. It also encourages a dynamic combination of lively narrative non-fiction writing and scholarly research, as various women transform their daily and religious experiences into feminist theology.

It is the latter aspect of online feminist blogging that, as a theologian, I have found most necessary and fulfilling. Reading and writing blogs provides a much needed outlet for the intensity of the experiences of women who are new to the religious domain. Within Christianity this category includes ordained ministers and female theologians. In my own Roman Catholic denomination, the opening of the seminaries to women post Vatican II has allowed female theological input for the first time in two thousand years. We are also beginning to understand the inner workings of this patriarchal organisation; I have no doubt that Pope John XXIII knew exactly what the impact on the Church would be of allowing lay people and lay women in particular into the seminaries. This has brought about a radically new situation as regards relationships between the clerical dimension of the Church, and the laity; the encounter between the male clergy and women within an academic context has, and will continue to have, ever more radical implications. The Irish situation is, in my opinion, a sort of microcosm of Catholicism as a whole since Vatican 11. This is because Catholic Ireland has had no tradition of theology as a university subject, meaning that when it became available to the laity, it necessitated the opening of the seminaries; this proved to be the catalyst for what I can only describe as a new type of encounter between clergy and laity, as well as between male celibates and women of all ages and types. As someone who spent several years studying theology in St. Patrick’s Seminary in Maynooth, I can vouch for the impact on the institutional Church of its encounter in this new context with lay Catholics and particularly with lay women Catholics. From a laywoman’s perspective, it was interesting to observe the mutual adjustments that had to be made; it was also reassuring to see the high calibre of the dedicated and idealistic young men who were training for the priesthood. While some of the older priests found our presence a bit uncomfortable, the overall result was greater mutual understanding and a relaxing of the boundaries between the clerical and lay groupings in the Church, one of the main aims of Vatican II. And even though there seems to be no question at the moment of women being admitted to the Catholic priesthood, the growing impact of female and feminist theologians should not be underestimated; I also believe that the entry of women into seminaries and Catholic universities where they are meeting and interacting with seminarians has made the eventual relaxing of the celibacy rule inevitable, though I know from experience that there are many in the clerical realm who have the gift of celibacy and would prefer not to marry. If the rule is relaxed, however – and again I think Pope John XXIII had this in mind when he opened the seminaries – it will provide another gateway for women to be assimilated into the institutional Church and exert influence within it. I have no doubt that the bestowal of religious authority on women in some major Protestant denominations is partly due to the fact that male priests and ministers were allowed to marry, hence making their institutions more comfortable with female input and gifts.

As regards women in the academic sphere, the theology of pioneering feminist theologians is all the more effective and authentic because it has been informed by the difficulties associated with being a woman in such a dense patriarchal space.  Experience has always been a popular theological category, and women’s experiences in religious universities and departments not only affects their theological and political opinions, but also constitute a powerful catalyst for both theological speculation and activism in the feminist cause.

The cumulative effect of women’s experiences in religion has now given rise in fact to what amounts to a tidal wave of feminist scholarship and activism in the religious domain. Blogging in particular has the power to break through all boundaries and I have every hope that it will soon burst through the ecclesiastical dam behind which institutional gatekeepers – both ecclesiastical and scholarly – who fear change are keeping their fingers grimly plugged into the ever-widening channels through which the healing water is ready to gush. After two thousand years of male dominated Christianity, I am convinced that feminist theology and scholarly feminist blogs have the alchemic power to transform women’s experiences in the religious and secular domains into theological and ecclesiastical gold. Theology is being formulated by women now at a very fast pace, and online blogs allow it to be communicated almost instantly. It is giving us the means to make up the ground that we have lost over the past two millennia.

The X Factor Pope

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When I read in the New York Times that Rolling Stone magazine had premiered a pop/rock track from an album to be released shortly by the Pope, I assumed it was a joke. Having checked it out, however, I discovered it to be true (see here). It seems that our Western celebrity culture has engulfed everything, even the Vatican: Simon Cowell has a lot to answer for.

I find it a little disappointing that the Pope should seek to bask in the reflected, superficial glow of showbiz. It would be far more meaningful and popular in the best way if he were to make real, doctrinal changes in relation to, for example, the requirement for priestly celibacy and the need for female religious authority within Catholicism. At the upcoming Synod on the family, he will be presented with the opportunity to relax stringent Church moral norms regarding contraception, homosexuality and divorce. Will he be prepared to make the hard choices, or is a nod to celebrity culture as far as he is prepared to go in keeping up with the zeitgeist? Francis talks the talk, but will he walk the walk?

Of course there is always the chance that the Pope’s pop debut is a shrewd and calculated effort to get public opinion behind him before attempting doctrinal change. If this is the case, then the Pope will have transcended anodyne pop culture: is this the precursor of meaningful change? Now that would  be real rock’n roll!

The Surrogacy Red Herring: Referendum on Marriage Equality

She Needs Her Mother For Life, Not Just For Nine Months

Why is the the ‘No’ side in the marriage equality referendum obscuring the real issue at stake by covering the city lampposts with misty-eyed photos of beautiful babies and toddlers who, it is implied, may be cruelly snatched from their adoring mothers and fathers by gay couples if the referendum is passed? Considering that the ‘no’ campaign is being spearheaded by the Iona Institute – a Roman Catholic organisation -this is either a deliberate fudging of the real issue at stake, or the campaigners are genuinely ignorant of what they are campaigning against. According to the Catholic Church, third party assisted human reproduction (AHR), which requires either donor sperm, donor egg, a donor uterus as in surrogacy or a combination, is against its natural law teaching. A child must be the result of a physical act of sexual intercourse between a man and a woman; to create a child in laboratory conditions is to turn that child into a product. Moreover, to deliberately create a child who will be brought up apart from one or both of its biological parents is to infringe the rights of the child. This teaching applies to both heterosexual and homosexual individuals whether married or not, so the no campaign’s  gay-straight polarisation on the surrogacy issue is not alone an inaccurate representation of Church teaching, but is irrelevant to the marriage equality issue, since marriage does not grant an automatic entitlement to avail of third party AHR. The AHR issue is a separate one; if it’s ok for heterosexual couples to avail of it, however, then it has to be ok for homosexual couples since the core ethical issue relates to the creation of a child who will be brought up apart from one or both of his/her parents. In jurisdictions such as France, Spain, Italy and Germany, where AHR is legally regulated, third party involvement is forbidden, since children must be brought up by their biological parents. 

Were the ‘no’ campaign  to be judged by the major thrust of its arguments, you could be forgiven for thinking that it’s a campaign against third party AHR for gay couples rather than marriage equality; if this is the case, then they must be ignorant of Church teaching, since it applies to heterosexuals also. If, on the other hand, the Iona institute is deliberately fear-mongering, then it is  being deceitful by confusing the issue. In which case they cannot identify themselves as followers of Jesus Christ, who described himself as the way, the truth, and the life.