Discovering a church in Cork is not difficult – just look for the cathedral towers kissing the skyline. Discovering when to attend, what to wear, and how to go about blending in is another story entirely.

Although St. Finbarr’s and St. Mary’s are visually prominent, the Internet became my best friend in determining an Irish religious experience. Although it lacks pearly gates, Google led me to Grace church, located a brief walk from my apartment.

My first trip to Grace proved fruitless as I became lost on Cork’s winding, street-signless roads, returning home damp and befuddled. The following week I actually arrived at the building, discovering the art of asking for directions every two blocks.

There, I was greeted with coffee and tea, followed by a fairly familiar service with distinct Irish flair. Songs were sung in Gaelic, leaving me haphazardly stumbling through pronunciation.

One distinct difference, however, was the Irish hospitality. Having attended a variety of services in the States, I am used to greeters with nametags or perhaps jam and an informational pamphlet. Instead, Grace church gave me Frank and Jo, a couple who promptly invited myself and a few other American students to dinner at their home that evening.

Perhaps I have watched too many “stranger danger” propaganda videos in elementary school, but I was fairly certain this gentle couple planned on kidnapping us, perhaps to harvest our organs on the black market. Sizing up the other Americans, however, I determined I could outrun at least a few of them and therefore would survive whatever the evening held. Plus, I was hungry.

The dinner ended up being a lovely meal, followed by good conversation. Surprisingly, Frank and Jo gladly lent out books and DVDs for entertainment, and invited to drive us to a “non-touristy” castle the next weekend. Our potential captors seemed now like surrogate parents, willing to provide just about anything to perfect strangers.

Excited about this experience, I told Emily, my roommate from Boston, about their generosity. She responded, “Well, that’s churchy,” with slight disdain.

“Churchy?” There’s a word loaded with connotations, hidden meaning and skepticism. I think I would prefer “creepy” to “churchy” any day. At least “creepy” speaks plainly.

To refer to something as “churchy” is to sap the compassion, kindness or generosity from the action. It implies that actions are not done selflessly, rather, that they are done in some twisted, obligatory fashion which always come with a catch.

I can see where the term “churchy” originates. I have been a firsthand witness to individuals who sell faith like a used car. They bring you in with free pizza, or a cool flier, then bam – it’s bait and switch to conversion. It’s as if eternal destiny should be debated before exchanging first names.

This “churchy” stigma, however, I’ve noted is a distinctly American euphemism for charitable actions. My Irish roommate Ian responded, “That’s real friendly, like. They sound lovely.” Ti-Ti, my Italian roommate, smiled and said yes (mainly because she speaks very little English). However, neither of them felt the need to label kindness as obligatory.

Jo and Frank gave me a distinct example of selfless generosity. After a castle-trekking adventure and a trip to the grocery store, I began to realize they wanted nothing in return for this favor. No discussion about our “eternal destiny,” no pressure to convert or subscribe to a certain belief – just consideration for students away from home.

I’ve yet to ask Jo and Frank why they have been so generous and helpful. I think it would be safe to assume, however, they aren’t being kind just to add another notch to their “conversion stick” or increase the glory of Grace church as an organization. Far from territorial, this couple suggested other churches in the area, lest Grace not be to our liking.

Perhaps, it is just good old-fashioned Irish hospitality. However, I think it much more likely Frank and Jo have decided to practice faith in a practical way, rather than to force beliefs onto perfect strangers.

Thus, in coming to Ireland I have encountered some of the most genuine and caring people I’ve ever met. And there is nothing “churchy” about them.

– Julie Young is a senior in psychology from Indianola. She is studying in Cork, Ireland, this semester.