Â鶹Éç

Available for over a year

Good morning. I once asked a class of 170 theology students, ‘Do you think Christianity is supposed to be a disruptive, insurgent phenomenon or a constructive, community-strengthening one?’ I was a bit disappointed when two-thirds said, ‘A community-strengthening one.’ It's pretty clear what answer the late Irish singer Sinéad O'Connor would have given. The language and passions of faith coursed through her veins – but so did the fury and gestures of protest. She called an album Theology, she sang settings of the Psalms, and she was ordained in a minority breakaway Catholic enclave, before finally becoming a Muslim. But she tore up a picture of the Pope live on TV, and her rage against the cover-up of abuses dominated her perception of the credibility of institutionalised religion. Intriguingly she said, ‘I don't do anything to cause trouble. It just so happens that what I do naturally causes trouble. I'm proud to be a troublemaker.’ From leaving home at 13, to being placed in a penitentiary workhouse at 15, to denouncing her parents’ abuse in the Irish Times, her life began and never stopped being one in which personal suffering, extraordinary talent, profound faith and a combative personality combined to create provocative statements and gestures. For many years her Christian faith conflicted with her antagonism toward organised religion. ‘We need to rescue God from religion,’ she said, and she described religion as ‘a smokescreen that distracts people from the fact that there is a Holy Spirit.’ One biblical figure O’Connor refers to in her work is the prophet Jeremiah. If we imagine Jeremiah in an age of rock concerts, social media and live TV interviews, he might no longer seem such a faraway figure. After all, he was one for the provocative gesture, breaking a clay jug in front of the religious leaders of his time, and offering wine to a people who didn’t drink wine. Those who see Christianity as a socially stabilising force have always been tempted to domesticate Jeremiah. But maybe – as Christ suggests in his words, ‘I come not to bring peace but a sword’ – maybe Christianity isn’t meant to be a socially stabilising force, but a profoundly provocative insurgency. As many prophets and a good few theologians have pointed out, there’s always a danger believers worship religion rather than God. The habits, hierarchies and hypocrisies of religious institutions are often in danger of hiding the mystery, truth and disruptive glory of the truly transcendent and transformative God. For all her turbulent life and perpetual struggles, what I will remember Sinead O’Connor for will be the power of realising that faith means not the complacencies of religion, but the simplicity of saying to God, ‘Nothing compares to you.’