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The Herald Scotland

A new Pope needs to visit Scotland and wake up our sleepy bishops

Thank God the Protestant Reformation came along to introduce a bit of order and rectitude to this Roman bacchanal. Following the Reformation in Scotland, it took another three centuries or so for the Scottish Catholic hierarchy to be restored. And, having learned its lesson, the new Scottish Catholic church seemed a bit less inclined towards its old medieval theatricality and corruption For a few decades it would be heavily influenced by Ireland from where many of the missionary priests came across to help us get back on our feet. Read more By the time Pope John Paul II paid us a visit in 1982, the Catholic Church in this country was most decidedly Scottish. Moreover, its prelates were, as one old newspaper journalist put it, 'either punters or the sons of punters'. They were all rooted in the communities which reared them and conveyed the authority of Rome with reassuringly working-class cadences. You could have a drink with them. During that golden age of the Catholic Church in Scotland its main figurehead was Archbishop then Cardinal Thomas Winning before his death in 2001. The Cardinal was a charismatic and no-nonsense son of a Wishaw miner who bore his eminence lightly. He also seemed to take every criticism of the Catholic Church personally. Him and his lugubrious aide de camp, Monsignor Tom Connelly, were regular visitors to every newspaper and broadcast outlet in Scotland where they'd discuss the church's position on the matters of the day with assorted editors and executives. Whisky would be taken. No political and social issue was considered out of bounds by Cardinal Winning. He once phoned me personally on the old Herald news desk to express his fury at what he considered the racist abuse of refugees in the north of Glasgow. 'Can we get this story to ourselves,' I asked him. 'Only if you promise to make it the splash,' he replied. He defended Scotland's Catholic schools as though his very life depended on it, arguing that they were centres of excellence which raised the expectations of families in some of Scotland's most deprived communities. He also rebuked the Labour Party in Scotland for taking its large cohort of Catholic voters for granted and laid the groundwork for their migration to the SNP by courting Alex Salmond. Read more The Scottish Catholic hierarchy's relationship with Rome since then has tended to proceed on a 'steady-as-she-goes' basis. So long as the schools are being protected and the activities of swivel-eyed, Latin Mass fanatics are kept at a safe distance we can all be left in peace to make our daily compromises with the secular state. Lately though, the dynamic has shifted in the hierarchy. As Pope Francis embraced the world and all of its peoples and their human concerns, the Scottish Catholic church has curiously retreated into an exclusive, platinum lounge version of itself. Last year, its widely-respected and long-serving Press Officer departed quietly. There are no current plans to replace him. For the first time in many decades, the Church has no official relationship with the media. There's also been a resurgence of media and political attacks on Catholic schools as some bad actors in civic Scotland seem to have sensed that the bishops are asleep at the wheel. Catholic teachers are desperately seeking guidance on how to maintain authentic Catholic values as they face pressure to succumb to gender ideology. The Scottish Catholic Education Service (SCES) is woefully unfit for purpose. In the university sector, some Catholic academics are beginning to feel heat for upholding their faith-based beliefs. Earlier this year, I attended the annual Cardinal Winning Lecture, organised by the St Andrews teaching foundation for Catholic education. This is normally an opportunity to hear the thoughts of political leaders and global academics on the faith/society interface. This year's event was a depressing affair, featuring eight (or maybe nine) academics and Catholic panjandrums all telling each other how grand life was. The only permitted question from the floor was a long, self-satisfied statement of the obvious from Archbishop Leo Cushley. It was, quite literally, a waste of everyone's time. A few years ago, a group of lay people in the archdiocese of Edinburgh were effectively ordered to cease their activities simply because they'd asked why some recent senior appointments had been filled by priests belonging to a little-known society of Opus Dei types. When Francis' successor is elected, he'd do well to make another visit to Scotland. The Scottish bishops are all good men who have worked hard to restore the church's reputation following its lamentable cover-up of historical, sexual abuse. Right now though, their assorted eminences could be doing with a gentle wake up call.