Pledge offers chance to pause for reflection

So in some ways the smallest of contacts was an anti-climax although, even as a small boy, Bishop Browne could quite literally put the fear of God in you.

The second part of the formal ceremony was the taking of the Pledge, vowing before God to abstain from alcohol until you were eighteen.

If it was sweets or chocolate, you’d have to have a long think about it, but it wasn’t a massive sacrifice for a ten-year-old to promise they’d keep off the porter until then. Later experiences would, however, have shown that the early years of this vow were considerably easier than the later ones.

But on the day, all you wanted was to get out of the Church, loosen the tie you’d only previously worn for your First Communion, and get a can of Fanta to celebrate your day – not to mention the few bob that came your way from the aunts and uncles.

Although while this seemed like a fortune at the time, it was a fraction of the takings for the average Confirmation kid these days.

It may be a cliché to say these were more innocent times, because the one and only threat to the young people in any small town or village was the demon drink; now parents across the country would nearly be relieved if that was all that was all they had to worry about.

The prevalence of drugs is both shocking and astonishing; there isn’t a corner of the country where they cannot be bought, and that’s why it is now part of the Pledge.

You can argue that it’s a futile exercise in the same way as thinking that those of us in the seventies who made this promise to stay off the gargle kept our word until we were eighteen – but on the other hand, ignoring it doesn’t make it go away either.

Including vaping in the equation might equally seem like a forlorn aspiration, but what it does do is show how much more pressure there is on the Confirmation classes of today.

The new Pledge is the result of deliberations of the Irish Bishop’s Drugs Initiative, where the Liaison Bishop is one Bishop Michael Router who, nominative determinism might suggest, would be a more obvious candidate to tackle the perils of computer access and the internet.

Be that as it may, he quite rightly describes this as not so much a ban as a time to take stock of our own use of stimulants; nothing wrong with a pint or two and even the odd vape mightn’t kill you – but perhaps weigh up the example you’re showing and how you might influence others.

In other words, perhaps, it’s a chance for the Mammies and Daddies to take stock of their own life choices as opposed to keeping the eleven-year-olds off crack cocaine and strawberry vapes.

Last Sunday was Temperance Sunday, and what Bishop Router called a time for reflection on ‘our relationship with alcohol, drugs, and all substances or behaviours that can diminish human dignity and freedom’.

Hands up, I love few things more than a few pints, and back in the day I loved even more than the few when the chance presented itself.

But there’s a tipping point that suggests it’s time to slow down when the recovery takes significantly longer than the fun – and that’s where we are now.

Two nights recently, I had cause to drive to events in Connemara – an unforgettable Mick Flannery concert in the intimate surrounds of Michael Coyne’s pub in Cill Chiaráin, followed by the launch a night later of my friend Seán Mannion’s book, Bliain an Ghaisce, the story of An Cheathrú Rua’s All-Ireland Junior Football Final win, in An Chistin.

I drove to both events and therefore had ne’er a drop – but my enjoyment of the two nights couldn’t have been any greater if I had been presented with a free tab at both bars.

It’s particularly easy not the drink at concerts because it’s not worth the hassle trying to get a pint, and in a venue like Coyne’s – even if the bar was open during the music – it would be rude to both artist and audience.

The night in An Chistin was a different matter because there possibly wasn’t a sinner at home in the village, and the music and the craic were ninety. But going without was a small price to pay to enjoy the night anyway.

And as I write this, I know I can be seen in the same light as the Catholic Church – preachy, proscriptive and utterly deluded – but that still doesn’t make it wrong.

Equally, it must be said that when I’m next somewhere that doesn’t involve driving or sitting entranced in the live music, I won’t be deliberating too long whether I’ll have a pint or a sparkling water. But I won’t be having ten of them and I don’t vape – and I may be the only person in the country who has never been offered soft or hard drugs.

The generation making their Confirmation over the next few weeks and months will have social issues to deal with that the world has yet to even imagine, which may make it seem positively innocent to proscribe vapes and cannabis – but so be it.

The Pledge is not a law, so it won’t be enforced by the courts if you break it – although that’s the least of your worries if you’re caught with a few wraps of coke – but it’s a cause to pause for thought.

Not just for those partaking in the sacrament; perhaps even more so for those in the seats looking up at them.