BELFAST- Sharp, icy winds and slushy sidewalks wouldn't derail Amy Curran and her friends from following through with their daily motto.
"The only way to start the day is to get to Mass."
At 11 a.m. on a snowy spring Friday in Belfast, Curran and her four friends -- 78- to 86-year-old lifelong Catholics -- gather around her kitchen table for coffee after church. Their fervent devotion to the Catholic faith offers a glimpse into an era during which Ireland was called "the most Catholic country in the world" by Pope Paul VI in 1946.
Nearly seven decades later, in an aftermath of sex abuse scandals and growing secularization, the Catholic Church in both the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland grapples with declining parishes and disaffected Catholics. In the Republic, for instance, Archbishop Diarmuid Martin acknowledged in 2011 that some Dublin parishes have as little as 18 percent of Catholics attending Mass each week. Religious leaders and laity agree some form of renewal is needed to resuscitate what remains, but deciding how to get there is where agreement ends.
The Archdiocese of Dublin is one place where such opinions contrast sharply.
Religious education is the first thing Church leaders want to tackle. Meanwhile, Catholic reformers want a complete overhaul of Church doctrine. Their sole common ground is Vatican II: Namely, both groups say the most significant overhaul of the Church in centuries never fully reached Ireland.
"We really haven't received the wisdom and insights of the Second Vatican Council yet," said Fr. Damian McNeice, who assists Archbishop Martin as master of ceremonies in the Dublin Archdiocese. "It hasn't completely filtered down."
For Archbishop Martin, change will start when the Church relinquishes control of Ireland's schools. According to him, the Church "has failed" in how it's handled education in Ireland. Martin wants education that will cultivate lifelong faith, rather than preparing students to go through the motions to receive the sacraments.
"There is need for a better type of religious education. Faith isn't just 'anything goes.' It has to be accompanied by people who make that part of their life," Martin said in a recent interview. "For those who grew up during the Second Vatican Council, there was a great sense to commit better to solidarity than there is now."
There's more solidarity among Catholics in the North, like Curran and her friends, largely because of their country's history. The tension between Catholics and Protestants during The Troubles- which began in the 1960s and ended in 1998- caused religion to define one's identity within the community.
But Vatican II still didn't break through as much as Catholics in the North would have liked.
"There was a sense of not feeling like the Church was theirs," said Paula McKeown, who hosted "listening" sessions in 2011 at the behest of Bishop Noel Treanor of the Down & Connor Diocese in Belfast. Their objective was to pinpoint what the 3,000 Catholics in the diocese wanted done differently. The overwhelming response: They wanted Vatican II to be fully realized, starting with a Church that heeded their concerns.
The Catholic Church was as austere as it was powerful when Amy Curran was growing up, with distinct separation between the people and the clergy.
"Priests were on pedestals," said Curran. "You were told something and you wouldn't have questioned it."
But as more people began rethinking their allegiance to the Church following the country's secularization and sex abuse scandals, the "us versus them" attitude became less tolerable. As more Catholics left, the Church was forced to listen.
In the Republic, 84 percent -- down from 94 percent in the 1930s -- still identify as Catholic.
The North identifies as 48 percent Catholic but has no surveys tracking Mass attendance. Fr. Edward McGee doesn't see the North being "in crisis" like the Republic, possibly because there hasn't been an investigation into clerical abuse -- and with it, the public outrage -- as in the South. But the apathy among Catholics still presented enough of a challenge to know something had to be done.