Many Christians among immigrants to Ireland have formed their own congregations outside of the mainstream churches
THE GROUND floor entrance of the Westwood House Hotel entices passers-by with rock music and drink specials. It is a popular haunt in Galway and people mill around the bar. But upstairs a different event is unfolding.
A spiral staircase leads to a dark landing with a big door. The music from the floor below is soon drowned on the other side of the door by people singing about Jesus Christ. This is a congregation of Indian Christians from Kerala, a state in South India. They gather at the hotel every Sunday and pray in Malayalam, their own regional language.
Congregation members estimate there are 300 to 400 Indian Christians in Galway, and the number has been rising steadily these past few years. They come to Ireland to study, work and make a better life. Children of these immigrants learn Malayalam at home and Irish at school.
While a constellation of churches of various Christian denominations exists in Galway, the Malayalam-speaking Indians prefer to pray together. Many of them don’t find the native Irish religious enough.
And while the Indian congregation’s service is Pentecostal, it welcomes Christians of all denominations.
Light bounces off the red carpets and walls, giving the room where the faithful gather a robust glow. The prayer leader is Shinil Matthew (34). He is not a priest or a pastor, but a lay leader.
A tall man, he wears a check shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. His prominent nose and thick eyebrows give him an air of authority.
He stands facing the congregation and sets a vigorous pace for the two-hour service, singing aloud and keeping time by clapping and swaying from side to side. His eyes are closed and face wrinkled in concentration.
As the momentum builds, every person in the congregation rises up from the chairs, singing and tapping their shoes to the lively beat. “Halleluiah, halleluiah, praise the Lord,” shouts Shinil.
These are the only words in English.
“We had to worship in our own language,” he says, over a cup of tea after the service. Many of the Indians present at the service do not speak English. Another member of the congregation, John Mathew (30) is an immigrant from Kerala. He sits in the front row with one hand raised, palm open.
At a verse that is particularly moving for him, he clenches his palm into a fist and punches the air with an accompanying “Halleluiah”.
It started with a few friends gathering at John’s house to pray. But the number of people from Kerala has increased in the past few years. The house wasn’t big enough. “We had all Christians, not just Pentecostals, so everyone could not fit,” says John, through a translator.
John, a Pentecostal, approached the Assembly of God, a loose order of Pentecostal churches, and it took the Indian congregation under its wing.The assembly’s branch in Galway, called the Discovery Church, is led by Pastor Paul Cullen, and also rents space in the Westwood House Hotel.
Pastor Cullen said that “many Indians come to our regular Sunday services, but some of the men felt that they couldn’t participate because of the language barrier”.
The women generally speak English, which is required of those who work as nurses in the Galway University Hospital.
Many Indian nurses have been recruited by the university hospital, which provides them with work visas. In many cases, their husbands follow and find simple jobs, or take courses at the university.
Many Malayalam-speaking Christians living in Galway say that in Ireland religion doesn’t enjoy the same primacy of place as in India, and that the power of faith flows more vibrantly in their small congregation than in Irish Catholic churches.
Alice Ninin (28) is a nurse by training. She says she “came here for better opportunities”. She belongs to the Mar Thorma Church and feels that the Christians in Ireland, particularly among the younger generation, are not religious. “In India, the churches are packed,” she says.
“The young people here prefer going to pubs,” she adds. Many others at the congregation echo her sentiment.
Next door to the prayer room, the children of the congregants are playing. Nine-year-old Irin Sajupaula and eight-year-old Silin Varghese hunch over sheets of white paper, drawing with coloured crayons thicker than their fingers.
These children have lived in Galway since their parents left India over a year-and-a-half ago. Sajupaula can converse in Malayalam, Hindi, English, and began learning Irish this year in school.
“Bán is white, she says, holding up the white crayon, and displaying her knowledge of Irish. “And dearg is red. Bándearg is pink.”
Nine children between the ages of two and 10, all of them born in southern India, play around the tables and chairs. The older ones know they belong to different Christian denominations.
“I’m Jacobite,” says Sajupaula. “And I’m Mar Thoma,” says Varghese, matter-of-factly, like explaining the different crayon colours.
Attending the service are 25 people. About half are Pentecostals and the remainder are from other denominations.
Sam Verghese (27) is a Pentecostal who moved to Galway 10 months ago to be with his wife, who is a nurse. He believes that Christians of all denominations can pray together because “Jesus is the same for everyone”. This commonality, he believes, lets them pray together even if prayers are fashioned differently. “There is no tension at all,” says Sam. “Everyone is free to practise in their own way.”
Rajesh Verghese (38), a salesman, is a Roman Catholic. He says that even in a Pentecostal service he maintains his Catholic identity. There are certain things he will and won’t do. “There is nothing wrong with singing and praying, Catholics can do that,” he says.
But Rajesh says that he will not dance at the service. “Catholics don’t dance,” he says, smiling.
Betwa Sharma and Zachary Goelman are students at the graduate school of journalism in Columbia University New York. They and colleagues visited Ireland last March to study the growing diversity of religion here