‘We want to make sure everyone feels welcome, that the whole diversity of area is celebrated’

When the Rev Andrew Rawding moved to Coalisland, Co Tyrone, to begin a new life and career as a minister of the parish of Brackaville, Donaghendry and Ballyclog, there were many aspects of rural life that struck him, as a native of London and former military officer.

But one that stood out was the stories he heard about how many young men living in this community - including the farming one - who had contemplated suicide.

“I also heard how there were questions marks over some farming ‘accidents’,” the Church of Ireland clergyman revealed.

It was through this, plus a number of other events, that led to Andrew, who took on his role on December 3, 2011, to decide to set up Mid Ulster’s own version of Pride - a “celebration of LGBT culture” which everyone in the local community - including farmers - can join in.

Mid Ulster Pride will take place in Cookstown on Saturday, June 13, at 3pm.

Andrew, who is well known for his support of the belief that people can be gay and also Christian, explains: “People will see that our over arching aim is to produce something where everyone feels welcome, and where the whole diversity of Mid Ulster is celebrated, where different racial and cultural backgrounds can all come together, and say we are so proud of every child, it doesn’t matter what the distinction is, every child can be celebrated and know that they are loved and that they belong.

“We want parents to turn up, we want children to turn up, we want the community to be proud of itself, instead of feeling the impact of this message that we have received, particularly from churches, that keeps people in their places, and makes them experience low self esteem.”

Rev Rawding’s own journey to life in the church is an interesting one.

His first visit to Northern Ireland actually took place in 1991 - as an army officer in the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers.

And coincidentally, he was stationed in Coalisland.

“I was a platoon commander from August 1991 until 1994; our main area of operation was in Newry, South Armagh and East Tyrone. I was 21-24 at that time, I survived a couple of direct bomb attacks and a couple of good soldier friends of mine were killed during my time here.”

Subsequently, Andrew got ordained into the Church of England, and became involved in lots of peace and reconciliation work in Northern Ireland.

He was also involved in helping veterans who suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder by bringing them into the areas where they had experienced Troubles related horrors, such as west Belfast and the Creggan in Londonderry, and into contact with former paramilitary members.

“I then rejoined the British military as a Padre, with the intention of working with the Royal Marines. I travelled with 40 Commando RM to Afghanistan, Helmand Province etc.

“Then after that I decided I had seen enough war; I had been in Bosnia twice, I had seen enough casualties and really, my priority was my children.”

Andrew - who is father to seven children and five step-children - started to look for a parish here in the Province so he could be closer to his kids.

It wasn’t an easy process.

“There were churches that wouldn’t take me, perhaps because I was divorced, or had done peace and reconciliation work.

“But then one day, I was in a ship off the coast of Albania with the Royal Marines, and I was on Google when a job in Brackaville came up. I thought to myself, if God has a sense of humour, knowing that the first place I served was Coalisland, then this is bound to be worth a try.

“And in my mind I was thinking, this is the last roll of the dice, this is going to be the sixth parish that I’ve applied for in the Church of Ireland.”

But, Andrew’s “incredible perseverance and faith” paid off, and he was formally appointed to the role.

He later added another string to his bow by completing suicide intervention training, after making the shocking discovery that “within 100-200 metres of the Rectory, there could have been three or four suicides in the first year I was here”.

And the clergyman wanted to be hands on and ‘real’, in terms of the support he felt he could offer to those in such potential situations.

“I need to know what I’m doing. I needed professional, research based training in how to deal with someone feeling suicidal, rather than just making it up, and in the worst case scenario, doing the wrong thing.”

Andrew subsequently learnt that research had shown that gay people were eight times more likely to take their own lives than heterosexual people.

He was involved in various initiatives and discussions with people from his local community before finally making the decision that rural Mid Ulster needed its own version of the Pride events replicated in places like Belfast and Londonderry annually.

“There are three words at the heart of the event, and those are ‘belonging, love, and celebration’,” he concludes.

“Everyone must know that they belong in their own community, and that they are loved, and can love freely.

“Everyone must be able to celebrate who they are, and as a community we must be able to celebrate everyone for who they are.”

But the clergyman stresses that “the flip side” of this attitude can actually be “the break up of families, and indeed, the very break down of the rural community.”

He adds: “The very thing that the rural community holds dearest is being broken down by a lack of acceptance and love for everyone.”

Healing was helped by ‘close knit communities’ of rural Co Tyrone

Whilst Andrew Rawding reveals that the “rural countryside and welcoming people” of Co Tyrone greatly assisted him in terms of his mental health following his experiences in the military, there were aspects of life in such a small community that were “a massive culture shock” to him.

The clergyman said he had arrived in Coalisland with little expectations of what to expect, but given that he “only had experiences of parishes in London”, he could not help but draw comparisons.

“I was based in urban areas, where people tend to be quite transient; they move around a lot, so they have to make an effort to find their place in communities.

“Whereas I find that in rural areas, people don’t have to work very hard to find their place because they are already there, and have always been there.

“But in places like London there is a lot more change, and therefore a lot more flexibility and adaptability, and indeed willingness to change, because they have to do so in order to survive.

“That’s not the case in rural areas, and so the concept of change was much more difficult.”

He refers to a line from the famous film Babe - ‘The way things are, is the way things are’ - and says that this, he felt, was very appropriate in the context of life in rural Northern Ireland.

“There was a feeling that we must stop trying to be anything different, that we just have to accept the way things are.

“For me, there was also a steep learning curve in terms of the socio-political identity of people within rural communities, and the impact of the Troubles here, and how unresolved that was.

“So I felt like a fish out of water.”

The minister adds: “The other thing that was a culture shock was the dynamic between families and in families in rural areas, and issues about land and inheritance and family secrets, and how families are seen and how they perceive themselves, and that whole sort of ‘what do other people think’ concern.”

However he stresses that the effects of what he say when he was in the military took at least two years to work through, being welcomed into “the close knit communities in this beautiful place” certainly helped with that.