We are a funny old nation.
Our relationship with religion, in particular with the Catholic Church, has always been complicated.
Not all that long ago, it was woven into almost every fabric of Irish life, present in our schools, our homes, our communities.
For some, it offered comfort and guidance.
For others, it was something more oppressive, bound up with fear and control.
In the past few decades, that relationship has shifted dramatically.
A steady stream of revelations, from abuse scandals to the horrors of mother and baby homes has forced a reckoning.
Trust has been eroded, and with it, the role of the Church in everyday life.
Congregations have dwindled, churches have closed, and the number of priests has fallen to historic lows.
And yet, despite all of this, the story isn’t quite as straightforward as a clean break because when it comes to education, we seem less certain.
Recent findings suggest that many Irish parents still want schools to retain their denominational ethos.
It’s a contradiction, on the surface at least - stepping away from the Church in principle, while holding onto it in practice.
But maybe it is something else.
There is a power in tradition and it seems many of us are not quite ready to let that go.
For a lot of families, the sacraments themselves have changed in meaning. Communions and confirmations are, for many, less about welcoming the Holy Spirit and more about marking a moment - an occasion filled with family gatherings, photographs, new clothes, and yes, the inevitable envelopes.
It’s easy to be cynical about that. But there is also something undeniably wholesome in it.. a milestone, a rite of passage and a reason to come together.
I find myself caught somewhere in the middle of it all.
Like many, I followed the expected path with my eldest son - baptism, sacraments, the rhythm of tradition.
And yet, if I’m honest, I’ve rarely crossed the threshold of a church since. With my youngest, things have been different.
He hasn’t been baptised, not out of indifference, but out of a discomfort with the contradiction participating in something I’m not sure I fully believe in.
And still, I can’t say the door is entirely closed.
Because I know that when his time comes to start school, those same traditions will quietly reappear. Not in any big way, just in the normal run of things...what the other children are doing, the build-up to communions, the bits that become part of growing up.
And I’d imagine when that happens, I won’t feel quite as removed from it. Not out of strong belief, but more out of familiarity and maybe not wanting him to be the one sitting outside of it all.
Maybe that’s where we are now as a country. Not fully in, not fully out. Holding history in one hand, and hesitation in the other.