Quest sparked by need to understand

There are certain events and practices which have a profound effect on a person's life, and in such a way as to provoke thought about a lot of things to which they may not be able to give adequate expression. In my life this has involved religion, though not exclusively so. In recent years it has begun to weigh heavily on my mind.

I should be more precise when I use the term religion, because it is Catholicism to which I refer. It seems a hopeless task to adequately paint the picture I want to present, but let me try.

The question asked of me when I was approached to prepare this piece was: "Why would someone my age decide to study theology when so many young people today have turned their backs on the church for one reason or another?"

In truth, I too had once turned away from church service and my faith but I found its hold too difficult to shake off permanently. With hindsight, many reasons led me to study theology. A Catholic education is the most obvious one, but there were others.

A rich heritage of religious figures existed in my family and this caught my imagination from an early age. Cardinal Paul Cullen, the 19th century all-Ireland primate and first Irish cardinal was my late grandmother's great-great granduncle.

Tales of his stature and the way he transformed the Irish church between 1849 and 1878 seem to have left an impression on me, as did names such as Cardinal Patrick Francis Moran of Sydney. He was Paul Cullen's nephew and former secretary. Another relative was Bishop Michael Verdon of Dunedin and Father James Maher, a parish priest who died in 1874.

The religious undertakings of my ancestors fuelled a desire to understand why the Catholic faith had maintained its grip on my imagination.

As to the wider picture, I had only to look to Irish society, history and culture. Church and State have for many centuries crossed paths in Ireland and, although secularisation is being ushered in, many still feel the effects of this Church-State relationship.

For me being Irish means to a certain extent being Catholic. Perhaps this is due to the country's turbulent history of oppression. It may also be the influence of my deeply nationalist Catholic grandmother coming to the surface.

More generally, how could I ignore the effect Christianity has had on the world? Above all else this is perhaps the reason why I returned to my faith: in order to understand it so I could embrace or reject it. One must be versed in a particular area, in this case religion, before it can properly be rejected or accepted.

A purely simple faith did not suffice. A longing to understand dogma and doctrine also existed.

During my teenage years away from Catholicism I never considered myself an atheist. It is a position which a friend of mine considers an arrogant one. I preferred to identify myself with the views of the Scottish philosopher Hume. In truth, I was more agnostic but really an agnostic who wanted to believe.

My loss of interest in church-going then was also influenced by liturgies which were presented in a form which I believed lacked vigour and life. Another reason was the hypocrisy I perceived to be rampant in the church, not just on the altar but also among the congregation. Strangely, this is now why I have come to believe in the beauty of the church - that it is not just for saints but also for sinners.

My falling away from practice was also due in part to the fact that I had never tried to understand the faith in which I was brought up. Going to Mass at the time was an exercise performed without much thought.

Studying theology has helped me to understand my faith and my religious convictions. But I wouldn't pretend to be the perfect Catholic. In fact, it could be said I may not even be in full communion with the Catholic Church. My attendance at church is sparse to say the least - limited to a recent First Communion and a host of funerals with confession non-existent. But I still feel a sincere sorrow at these absences. Possibly that's a beginning of some kind. However, theology has helped me to question myself constructively and to understand that I do not want a faith that is merely credulous. No longer do I want just to hold on to what I have received from the church - I want to make my own contribution to a personal faith.

Although I recently finished my course, theology for me is an on-going reality and I shall continue to question and intellectually challenge my belief in God and organised religion until the day I die. This is because theology is never a closed chapter or final statement. It is an on-going process precisely because of its limited nature as a study of the knowledge of God.

When I first entered the Milltown Institute four years ago I felt that only the magnificent Louis le Brocquy painting hanging in the main hall would make a lasting impression on me. Now I realise that that has not been the case.

Martin McDonnell recently had a second class honours (BA) degree in Philosophy and Theology conferred on him at the Milltown Institute in Dublin.