Bishop Phoning

 

The phone rang one evening as Father Ignatius was watching football on TV. It was Father Frederick from Bishop’s House.

“Hello Ignatius are you well?”

The preliminary greetings over, Father Ignatius was keen to find out the reason for the call. After all, it isn’t everyday that the Bishop rings a lowly priest such as he.

“I’m sorry to tell you that Monsignor Thomas is not well … he’s in hospital right now …”

Father Ignatius knew the Monsignor from way back as they trained together for the priesthood in Rome. He hadn’t seen him for a while and the news of his illness came as quite a shock.

“Oh don’t worry it’s nothing serious. He sprained an ankle as he fell down the stairs,” declared Father Frederick nonchalantly. “Anyway … are you doing anything on Tuesday? Thomas was due to go to a Conference and deliver a Keynote Speech on behalf of the Bishop … now he can’t make it he suggested you go instead!”

“Keynote speech … well … I’ve never given a speech … and it’s only three days away …” hesitated Father Ignatius.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll do well, the Bishop has every confidence in you … we’ll send you your itinerary and your speech and everything else you’ll need in the morning … Oh it’s in Washington,” interrupted the priest at the other end of the line in his usual casual manner.

“Washington up North?” asked Father Ignatius still in a daze by the sudden turn of events.

“Not Washington in Tyne and Wear … the real Washington old boy … in America …it’s only for a few days … nothing to it … we’ll send you all the details first thing tomorrow.”

Father Ignatius put the phone down and tried to recall the phone conversation. Had he dreamt what just happened? One minute he was happily watching football on TV the next he’d received his marching orders to go to the other end of the world.

The following morning a special courier delivered a large pouch confirming that it was not all a dream after all. There for him to read were his speech, the programme of the Conference, his air tickets and everything else he needed to complete his mission.

Apparently the Monsignor was due to attend an International Youth Conference to discuss and evaluate various ways of encouraging young men into the priesthood in order to overcome a projected shortfall in vocations.

“Have they thought of praying about it?” mumbled Father Ignatius as he fumbled through the reams of papers on his desk.

Three days later and Father Ignatius was in the States once again. He recalled that the last time he visited America was also, as now, a totally unscheduled and unexpected visit.

His hotel was full of priests mainly from America and Canada and a few from Europe. He was the only one from England and soon discovered that he spoke “with a funny accent”, or so his fellow conference delegates thought.

The itinerary included several trips to tourist venues scheduled by the conference organizers and he was paired with a young priest in his twenties from Houston Texas. The idea was to allow exchange of views and ideas on the way different churches tackled vocations in the priesthood.

Father Ignatius got on very well with this young priest and they discussed quite a lot during the various organized trips and free time they had together.

Father Ignatius learnt how this young farmer’s son, decided to become a priest. Being almost half his own age, the young Texan provided quite an insight into his motivation, outlook, hopes and fears. His Christian up-bringing had played a very important part in his decision to become a priest. So much so that the night before he was to deliver his speech Father Ignatius had an important decision to make.

“Do I deliver the Monsignor’s speech as it has been given to me, or do I tell them also my very own views on vocations and the priesthood?” he asked himself.

He felt that the speech written for him, whilst full of facts and statistics, projections and strategies for the future, lacked the very essence and soul which the young lad from Houston had engendered in his conversations with him.

Here we have a young Catholic boy, one of a family of six, all girls except for him. Brought up on a farm by loving Catholic parents who had endured poverty and hardship over the years, yet they managed to keep the family together, all of whom grew up to be exemplary treasures for their parents to be proud of. One of the young man’s sisters was a nun back in Texas. The others were happily married and raising their children as taught by their parents.

In particular, one phrase from that young priest stuck in Father Ignatius’ mind, “The way my parents brought me up, it was inevitable I’d become a priest!” he had said in his Texan accent.

“That alone is worthy of a speech,” Father Ignatius thought to himself, “Even though I might deliver it in my funny British accent.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

He said to his listeners that it isn’t the church which selects people to be priests; but it is God Himself.

By the grace of God we all have a mission on this earth. Some parents are given the gift of children by God. Their gift back to God is the way they bring these children up.

They can create the conditions within the family where it becomes inevitable that their sons may become priests, and their daughters nuns. And those children who go on to have their own families may in their turn emulate their parents’ good example.

Nothing should give parents more pride than to see their sons and daughters join the church. And when they get to meet the Good Lord they can look up humbly and say: “I did my best Lord with the children you gifted me.”

He explained to his audience that priests have an important role in this cycle of events by being an example which others might wish to follow.

Priesthood was not a matter of statistics, projections, strategies and plans. Whether or not there were enough vocations in the future was a matter for God and not for planners and strategists.

“We should have enough Faith in God to ensure that His Word is spread on this earth by people chosen by Him. And in so doing, our role is to pray constantly that many will follow in our footsteps as we priests lead by good example,” concluded Father Ignatius.

Before he left for the airport Father Ignatius met up again with the young Texan and gave him a small Crucifix as a souvenir. He thanked him warmly for inspiring him to deliver a speech from the heart which was no doubt remembered by all delegates at the conference.

READ MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

Let him die

Father Ignatius was a member of the Doctors and Patients Consultative Committee at the local Hospital.

The Chairman of the Meeting welcomed all present and said:

“Thank you for attending this Meeting which we have arranged to discuss a matter on which the Hospital Board has asked for our views. Over the past few months there have been a number of premature births in this hospital and, as you would imagine, it has proved a very difficult and emotive issue for both the medical staff and parents to deal with.

“Let me introduce Doctor Farmington who will address us for a few minutes on the subject in question.”

The doctor stood up and explained about instances when babies are born pre-maturely, some as early as twenty three weeks into pregnancy. He explained that despite medical advancements and efforts made to save the infant, in the majority of cases, those who survived, had severe physical and mental disabilities throughout life.

These disabilities, sometimes painful, resulted in the child leading a very difficult existence dependent on others and on constant medical attention, with no hope of ever being cured to lead a normal life.

The doctor also explained that often, the very intervention by medical staff to save the baby, created medical risks which would adversely affect the infant in later life; for example brain damage, infection and so on.

The dilemma facing the medical profession was whether it would be more humane to let such premature babies just pass away peacefully rather than condemn them to a difficult and often miserable life.

The doctor was followed by a Senior Social Worker who went on to add that in a large number of cases, where the baby was saved despite the severe disabilities, the strain on the family was such that marriages frequently ended in divorce causing further pain and heartache to everyone involved. Furthermore, in many cases any other children in the family suffered too because of the extra attention and resources afforded to the disabled child by the parents. Often one or both parents had to give up work to look after the disabled child putting further pressure on the families’ finances.

The debate went on as to the limited financial resources available by families and the State to assist in such cases.

One or two parents at the meeting maintained that disabled children are well-loved by their parents and are central to their families despite their disabilities. They talked about the sanctity of life and how they, as parents, had the right to decide on medical intervention and not the medics or anyone else.

“You’re very quiet Father,” said the Chairman of the Meeting, “Although I might guess on your views …”

A few people laughed.

“By guessing my views, you may well save me the agony of having to decide on this …” replied Father Ignatius.

The Meeting fell silent.

“I fully appreciate the difficult decisions that have to be made by all concerned in such cases as premature births …” continued the priest.

“It is true of course that where the medics intervene, using their great skills, the results more often than not are a disabled child unable to fend for himself throughout what could be a long life.

“As we’ve heard, this puts a great strain on all concerned and marriages often break-up as a result inflicting further pain on the whole family.

“Understandably, the parents in such cases want everything possible to be done to save the child, and they cling to faint hope that all will turn out well. This is Faith indeed, albeit in reality, as we’ve heard, in most cases it is misplaced Faith since the surviving child is permanently and severely disabled.

“Yet, we must remember, that in these traumatic few moments when a decision has to be made, the parents are acting without any medical knowledge or facts whatsoever, and they base their decisions to save the child on pure loving instincts.

“Faced on the one hand with definite medical and statistical evidence of the outcomes of intervention, and on the other hand on parental love, hope and faith … how are we as a society to decide on this terrible dilemma?

“Who are we, I ask, to play God and decide to condemn a human being to a life of misery for themselves and those around them?

“If a child is born pre-maturely, extremely so in some cases, is this not a sign that the mother's body has rejected it because there is something wrong with it? By intervening are we not interfering with the natural course of event?”

The doctor and the Social Worker smiled sensing the argument going in their favor. Father Ignatius stopped for a second or two as he often did to focus peoples’ attention.

“Let me invite you to consider something else,” he continued.

“There are instances where babies are born after their full pregnancy term, yet, they are born with severe difficulties; like a hole in the heart for example …

“What do the medics do then? Do they reject them as faulty and let them die?

“Or do they do their utmost to help these young lives who sometimes, they too, grow up with disabilities?

“So I ask myself, what is the difference between a child born pre-maturely and another born after its full term? Why should one benefit from the skills and expertise of the doctors and not the other?

“Our skills, whatever they are, are God-given. We’ve done nothing by ourselves to achieve what we achieve.

“A skilled doctor for instance owes his skills and aptitude to assimilate and use knowledge to a Higher Being. This applies to all of us.

“And as such we owe that Higher Being, God, a duty to use our skills, whatever they are, for the benefit of humanity.

“Rather than ask whether the doctors should intervene in the case of pre-mature babies, why don’t we ask God to intervene? Don’t we trust Him enough?

“My views, Mr Chairman, if you’ve guessed them correctly … are that the doctors should do their best with the skills and expertise at their disposal to help these young lives … and then leave it to God to intervene as to the quality and length of life which transpires as a result of their efforts.”

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE 

Rejected

 

Father Ignatius came out of the Sacristy after Mass and found Sharon still in church with her little three years old daughter Petra. They were standing by the Statue of Our Lady trying to light a candle.

“Are you still here Sharon?” he asked, “how are you these days?”

He must have touched a raw nerve because tears started building up in Sharon’s eyes as she said, “We’re well Father … doing as best we can."

Father Ignatius sat on the first pew and little Petra left her mother and came running to him, handing him her toy bear.

“That’s a lovely bear” said the priest taking it from her hands, “what is his name?”

“John …” said Petra enthusiastically as she climbed on the pew and sat next to the priest. “John, you and me can now pray together …” she added, as her mother a few feet away knelt down by the statue for private prayers.

Sharon was a single mother. Her husband left her for another woman just after Petra’s birth and has not been seen since. Eventually, having no news whatsoever of her run-away husband, she divorced him in the civil court and brought up her little child as best as she could on Social Security Benefits.

After a few moments of silent prayers she joined the priest and picked up her daughter on her lap.

“I’ve been trying to get a part-time job …” she said, “nothing much, just a few hours a week to supplement my benefits and to become a little independent …”

“That’s good …” replied Father Ignatius gently.

“There’s just no work available …” she said, “I can’t go full-time because I have no one to look after Petra … and part-time work is either not available or is too far from home requiring two bus rides to get there.”

Father Ignatius said nothing as he prayed silently and handed the toy back to the child.

“I feel such a failure …” continued Sharon, “my life seems to be in a rut and stuck in failure … I’ve been rejected by my husband … rejected by my family who live too far away to care … and rejected by every employer in town and society in general …”

At this moment, almost by coincidence, the little girl on her lap said, “I love you Mama …”

“Well … you’ve certainly not been rejected by Petra …” said Father Ignatius quietly as Sharon kissed the child on the head.

“And I know you haven’t been rejected by Jesus either …” he continued.

Sharon smiled weakly.

“Rejection is very hard …” said the priest, “and we do sometimes feel as if we’re of no value or worth to others. But that is not always the case Sharon.

“We’re all valuable in the eyes of God, and we all have a contribution to make … you are very valuable to your little daughter who relies on you for everything.

“It’s good that you’re trying to find a job; and I feel deeply for you at what you see as rejection from employers.

“Rejection does not mean failure.

“Sometimes rejection provides you with clarity on where to go next. You say you’ve tried the local factories, and the electric company and the gas works for some clerical work …

“Perhaps your future does not lie there … I can’t say where just now … but maybe God is leading you somewhere else.

“For now it could be that you’re exactly in the right place where you’re supposed to be … and God wants you to spend your time looking after Petra.

“Sometimes He answers us by saying ‘Wait … not now … stay where you are and trust Me’; … do you see what I mean?”

“I understand …” Sharon replied smiling weakly again.

“I shall pray for you Sharon …” continued Father Ignatius.

“And now … would you mind doing me a favor please?”

“Yes Father …” she said.

“I’m having some trouble with the new speakers and microphone they installed in church recently. I wish to test the acoustics in here.

“Would you mind going to the lectern and read something from the Bible over there. Take Petra with you.”

Sharon walked to the lectern child in hand.

“Just read anything … I’ll stand over here” said the priest.

Sharon opened the Bible and read the first passage at the top of the page.

“That’s good …” said the priest, “wait a bit until I walk over there a little further back … now read again …”

She followed his instructions.

“The speakers here sound OK … I’ll go right back by the statue of St Peter … when I get there could you read again please.”

Sharon waited until Father Ignatius walked slowly to the end of the church by the exit door and then started reading the Bible.

He raised his hand in the air to stop her then walked slowly to the front once again.

“As clear as a bell …” he said, “I can hear your every word very clearly despite my old age … and if I can hear you, I’m sure everyone else can.”

She smiled.

“Sharon … we do need readers for Mass on Sunday. It’s really not fair to rely on just the same readers every week. You should really consider adding your name to the readers’ rota to help us out a bit.”

“But … I can’t read …” she exclaimed as she picked up her daughter tugging at her dress.

“You seem to have done OK just now … just think about it,” replied Father Ignatius, “you don’t have to decide right now …”

Sharon did think about it; and eventually she did join the readers list and did read on Sundays at Mass.

A few months later she also managed to get a junior clerical job working part-time at the local Catholic school leaving her child at the pre-school playgroup while she worked. 

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

The Cocktail Queen

 

Father Ignatius was washing his car in the church’s car park one afternoon when he was approached by a young lady wearing a low-cut T-shirt, a short skirt, and knee-length boots.

“Are you the priest that works in this church?” she asked.

He was still wearing his white collar and replied, “I am the Parish priest. How may I help you?”

“Can we speak privately please?” she asked again.

Father Ignatius put down the bucket of water and invited her into the Parish house. He sat at his desk in his office and she made herself comfortable in the armchair by the window.

After a short silence she said, “This isn’t easy for me …”

“Take your time,” replied Father Ignatius gently.

“Don’t know where to start …”

“Start at the beginning … what can I do to help?”

“I serve drinks at the Bitten Apple Night Club … I’m a barmaid … they call me Cocktail Queen …” she interrupted.

The priest nodded and said nothing, encouraging her to go on.

“Have you been there? The Bitten Apple … just by the cinema?”

“No, I’ve never been there,” he answered calmly, and wondering where all this is leading to.

“If you ever want to go let me know … I can let you in without paying the entrance fee … get in at the back …”

“Well … that won’t be necessary,” hesitated Father Ignatius, still wondering what this young lady wanted.

“I’m not a bad person you know … people look at me and think I’m a bad person!”

“I’m not here to judge you,” he answered, still remaining calm to help her say what she had on her mind.

“This is very difficult, but I have to tell you because I believe in God and all that …” she stopped for a few seconds and sighed. He let her pause for a while until she continued, “I’m pregnant … there I said it!”

“That’s good news … isn’t it?” he said with a smile.

“A nuisance more like … it’ll interfere with my work … and my boy-friend is mad about it. It’ll be Christmas soon … and a right present he’s given me!”

“I see …”

“Well he said we should get rid of it … he is willing to pay and all. If I don't get rid of it he'll leave me. And I love him, you see. I was wondering whether God would forgive me if I got rid of it … because I can’t give up work you see.”

“What you intend to do is kill a living human being; and you are asking me to condone it. Do you realise what it is you intend to do?” said Father Ignatius sternly.

“I’m asking for forgiveness,” she said, “I was brought up Catholic years ago as a child, although I don’t go to church now. I’m too busy you see. I was told if you confess your sins the priest has to forgive you.”

“It doesn’t work quite like that …” he said hiding his temporary loss of patience. “You can’t ask for forgiveness for something you’re about to do. Something which you know is wrong; and yet you intend to do it all the same.”

“It's either that or I lose my job and lose my boy-friend. Then where will I be?”

“You do realize what abortion is Miss, do you not?” he asked gently trying to calm down the situation before it got out of hand. “It is the ending of a life. It is not a matter to be considered lightly and in a cavalier way as you and your boy friend seem to think. I do not believe that it is right, and I must advise you against it in the strongest way possible. I urge you to re-consider what you’re intending to do …”

She looked at her watch and interrupted him once again, “Do you think if I go to another church the vicar there would forgive me?”

It was obvious that she was not listening and that her mind was made up. All she needed was re-assurance from the church, or any representative of a Deity she happened to vaguely believe in, that what she was doing was right.

“I doubt that you will find any vicar or priest who would …”

“I’ll have to go now,” she said looking at her watch again, “I’m on at the Bitten Apple in half-an-hour!”

“Before you go, just wait a second … I’d like you to get in contact with these people if you can. They may be able to help you. They will talk to you about your pregnancy, but I must tell you, they will never agree to you having an abortion. On the contrary, they will help you see what a gift you have living within you right now …”

“Whatever … I’ll think about it … I don’t think they’ll help … I just have to get rid of it. I’m not into having babies and all that …” she said taking the card from his hand and making her way out.

As he saw her leave Father Ignatius prayed silently for that living human being threatened with death before breathing his first breath.

All that happened some months ago and the priest never met the young lady again … until yesterday.

He was at the supermarket and about to pay for his purchases when the cashier recognized him. She told him that the baby is six months old now, and that she gave up work at the night club and was now working at the supermarket and living with her boy-friend, the baby’s father.

As he drove away the priest praised God for saving the unborn-child and prayed that maybe … one day … this young family may get to know and love the Lord.

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

Children's Homilies

 

 

AN IDEA FOR A

CHRISTMAS PRESENT

FOR SOMEONE YOU LOVE 

 

AMAZON LINK

 

.

 

How do you love me?

But whoever denies Me before men, I will also deny him before My Father in heaven. Matthew 10:33

Do you believe in God? YES/NO

If YES - what is so clever about that? Even the devil believes in God. In fact he knows God because he met Him face to face; he even rebelled against Him.

So, you say you believe in God. How do you believe in God? Is saying you believe in Him enough? Is praying to God enough? 

Let's ask the question another way. Do you love God?

You know what's coming next - How do you love God?

“Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a Disciple, truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” Matthew 10:37-42.

You might need to read this passage more than once for it to make sense. 

On first reading, this looks as if God, or Jesus, is selfish and demands that we love Him more than anyone or anything else.

But I don't think this is what Jesus meant here. Remember, He was talking to His contemporaries who understood what He was saying, and the nuances and figures of speech of the time.

I think what Jesus is teaching here is that love of parents, offspring, or even love of life itself is a sacred mission as created by God. It is our duty, obligation even, to love our parents, spouses, children and ‘neighbours’.

It should not be a burden.

Let me explain.

When you were young you were probably given tasks to do by your parents. Like helping clear the table after meals, or making your bed, or cleaning your room. You probably did these tasks as a duty. As a commitment. Probably with gritted teeth and obedience.

Or did you do it out of love?

What Jesus is teaching here is that our love for Him should not be a burden or a commitment. But it should be a joy. We should be glad to have the opportunity to love God.

Let me say this important bit again: We should be glad to have the opportunity to love God.

Before His crucifixion Peter denied Jesus three times.

After the Resurrection, when Jesus met the Disciples by the lake, He asked Peter "do you love me?" three times. One for each time Peter denied Him. To reinforce the point that to love Jesus (and God) is a privilege we should enter into willingly, joyfully and happily - as well as obeying His Commandment to do so.

By "loving" Jesus in here it means having full confidence in Him. Being sure of Who He is, the Son of God; and acknowledging what He has done for us and continues to do. 

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. Matthew 22:37.

Thinking aloud

 

Thinking out loud.

Lying around, pondering the problems of the world, I realized that, at my age, I don't really care any more. 

I thought ... If walking is good for your health, the postman would be immortal.

A whale swims all day, only eats fish, and drinks water, but it is still fat.

A rabbit runs, hops lives outdoors most of its life and only lives 15 years, while a tortoise doesn't run, lazes about and does mostly nothing, yet it lives for 150 years. And they tell us to exercise? I don't think so.

Now that I'm older, here's what I've discovered:

1. I started out with nothing, and I still have most of it.

2. My wild oats are mostly enjoyed with prunes and all-bran.

3. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

4. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

5. If all is not lost, then where the heck is it?

6. It was a whole lot easier to get older, than it was to get wiser.

7. Some days, you're the top dog, some days you're the hydrant.

8. I wish the buck really did stop here; I sure could use a few of them.

9. Kids in the back-seat cause accidents.

10. Accidents in the back-seat cause kids.

11. It is hard to make a comeback when you haven't been anywhere.

12. The world only beats a path to your door when you're in the bathroom.

13. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he'd have put them on my knees.

14. When I'm finally holding all the right cards, everyone wants to play chess.

15. It is not hard to meet expenses . . . They're everywhere.

16. These days, I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter . . . I go somewhere to get something, and then wonder what I'm "here after".

17.  ...

18. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded. 

19. It is a lot better to be seen than viewed.

20. Have I blogged all this before or did I read it in your blog?

Oh ... before I go ... I just remembered to tell you about something I am doing you might want to tell others about. I have started locally a Dial-a-Prayer service for atheists. You call up the phone number and it rings and rings and rings but nobody answers.

Thank you Lord

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

TO

ALL OUR READERS

GOD BLESS

 *******

Thank you for the flowers that grow in blossoms on the trees

Old familiar faces that I'm always glad to see

Comic strips and fish and chips and people who like me

Thank you Lord Thank you Lord

 

Thank you for all the creatures from the mouse to kangaroo

Lambs and spreading birds that fly across the skies so blue

If we took a closer look we'd learn a thing or two

Thank you Lord Thank you Lord

 

Gratitude is a simple debt that anyone can pay

Thank you is two little words that go a long long way

So however busy, help me find the time to say

Thank you Lord Thank you Lord

 

Thank you for the happy songs that bounce inside my ears

Something clicking something picking the songs I love to hear

Spinning tops and busy shops with Christmas drawing near

Thank you Lord Thank you Lord

 

Thank you for your only Son who hung upon the tree

Dying so that we might live for all eternity

It's not much in return but Lord for what you did for me

Thank you Lord Thank you Lord

NOTE: This song was played by me on my radio program many years ago. Unfortunately all I have is the tape of that program. Can anyone please help identify the singer or the song and when it was recorded?

Many thanx. God bless.

Hello ... Hello ...

 

Hello ... Hello ... God?

God ... are you there?

Please pick up ... pick up ... don't put me on the answering machine!

Hello ... is that God? 

Hi ... I have called to say ... thank you!

MORAL: Be patient. Be thankful.

A new venture

 

A thought has been buzzing round my mind for the last few days. I'd like your honest opinions please.

We all have a responsibility to spread our Christian beliefs and faith; not just by the way we live but also by other means as best as possible. We cannot all be preachers, standing at street corners handing out leaflets, or knocking from door to door. But there is another way.

The Internet is a marvellous channel which can reach many people far and wide throughout the world.

The world is becoming more and more secular. Many people have turned their back on their Creator or do not know Him at all. 

Here's what I have in mind. 

What if we were to create a Blog dedicated solely to Christian articles? No humour, no food recipes, travels, gardening or such articles. Just Christian articles written by you. Yes you.

The articles could be about your experiences, when and how you met God in your life. Or about a passage from the Bible that speaks to you, or a hymn/song and its meaning to you, or anything that is Christian-based which would encourage and uplift someone who does not know God or has turned his back on Him. 

How will it work? 

I'll get someone to design the Blog for us. Suggested title: CHRISTIAN FOCUS. What do you think? 

Contributors will send their articles by email to enquiries@holyvisions.co.uk (my office). 

All that is needed is a short article every now and then; perhaps explaining a Bible text, or why a certain reading or story appeals to you or has helped you. 

You Tube videos also acceptable, or book recommendations, or even articles that have already appeared on your Blog. You could also discuss various points regarding Christianity and beliefs and how this affects our lives.

We would need about a dozen people to commit to submitting articles. This is to ensure a variety of input and to avoid a few people monopolising the conversation. 

The articles will then be published on the CHRISTIAN FOCUS blog, with your name and a link to your Blog if you wish. 

You can visit any time to check what viewers are saying and respond very much as you do now on any Blogger blog. 

Here's what would be involved. Please answer these questions honestly:

1    Do you think a Blog devoted purely to Christian articles is a good idea?

2    Would you commit to contributing about one article a month? (More is acceptable).

3    Would you be able to invite people you know (e.g. your pastor) to contribute articles every so often? Occasional articles from your friends/relatives etc ... would be welcome and contributors do not need to be members of Blogger. Articles would be sent via yourself by email. 

4    Would you be able to promote the Blog and send links to people you know who would benefit from visiting it? This is essential if we are to spread the Word to a larger audience.  

5    Would you promote/advertise the Blog on your own Blog every now and then? Also on other social media like FB, X, Instagram etc ...

Here's how we envisage the project to work.  

1    I'll get someone to design the Blog and also receive contributions from all writers via email.

2    The articles will be published on the website with your name - and if you wish a link to your Blog will be added.

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A night at the Opera

 

I was taken to the Opera against my better judgement. We were sitting in one of those private balcony seats watching a lot of people on stage shouting at each other in song and walking about as if they’re constipated.

I've never understood opera, and after that performance I understood it even less.

In order to educate myself in one easy lesson I quickly read the brochure we were given at the entrance to find out how many intervals there were, and whether this theatre had a bar or not.

I read the summary of the plot of this play, or musical, or whatever it was that we were watching.

Now please pay attention. This is quite complicated.

Apparently there's this fellow called Gelato. He's the one with tight trousers and a squeaky voice as if his ... are caught in a bear trap. 

 

He is a knight and he loves the lovely Princess Miranda.

One day as Gelato was riding through the forest on his way to visit Miranda he bumps his head against a low lying branch from a tree and falls unconscious from his horse. 

Gelato is later found dazed in the forest by a young and beautiful peasant girl called Amnesia. She takes him home to her lover Memorandum. 

 

She and her lover look after the squeaky Gelato and nurse him back to health. But sadly, his forest experience has wiped his memory of the love of his life, Princess Miranda. He now has eyes only for Amnesia ... no wonder he's so forgetful.

Amnesia is confused and doesn't know who to love more. Her faithful Memorandum who stood by her all this time, or the forgetful Gelato who has declared undying love for her but doesn't even know who he is.

Meanwhile, Princess Miranda back at her palace, not having seen her squeaky knight for such a long time, presumes him dead; eaten by a vegetarian dragon; and feels that her love for her Gelato is cooling off as each night passes.

So she gives up hope of ever finding a knight with whom to spend a night.

Eventually, she falls in love with a restaurant waiter called Risotto. Their love develops into a recipe for happiness ever after. 

 

Princess Miranda decides to marry Risotto.

On the day she was to marry Risotto, the waiter, she invites the whole town to the palace and ... as it happens ... Gelato the forgetful knight, Amnesia his peasant girlfriend, and Memorandum who originally loved Amnesia, all attend the wedding at the palace.

The music rises to a crescendo. (That's Italian for a gradual increase in loudness in a piece of music; and not the name of another character in this opera. Please pay attention!)

On one side of the stage stands Princess Miranda with her beloved waiter Risotto whom she is about to marry.

On the other side of the stage stands the dazed forgetful knight Gelato with the squeaky voice, also his newly beloved peasant girl Amnesia, and her previous lover Memorandum.

In the middle of the stage is a crowd representing the whole town folk singing in unison something in Italian which I do not understand. Hopefully, it is the menu of the restaurant we are due to visit later after the show.

Upon seeing Gelato, Princess Miranda recognises her previous lover she thought was dead and falls in love with him all over again, (fickle or what?)

She pushes her Risotto to one side. I don't blame her though ... a Risotto isn't much fun when you have Gelato on the menu; is it?

Anyway ... somehow, on seeing Miranda, Gelato suddenly regains his memory and declares his undying love for his Princess. After all, better marry a rich Princess than a pauper like Amnesia ... what?

Amnesia is beside herself with indignation and embarrassment that she forgets her lines and waits for the prompter to help her. 

Anyway, Amnesia now turns to her former lover Memorandum for affection and forgiveness and a bit of a cuddle and hugs and ... (It's always good to have a fall back Plan B, don't you think?)

However, Memorandum is now rather angry at having been spurned by Amnesia that he turns his amourous glances towards Risotto. 

WHAT? I never expected that; did you? 

By now I was totally confused and getting rather hungry. 

As you would expect in any good opera; an argument erupts between Princess Miranda and Gelato the squeaky knight on one side, and Amnesia the peasant, her ex Memorandum and the side-lined Risotto the waiter on the other side.

They all break out into song each out-crying each other louder and louder.

At one point a chorus of about thirty people standing in the middle of  the stage join in the screaming as if their lives depended on it.

"Do you love me?" screams Princess Miranda in Italian. "Mi ami?" she sings at the top of her voice.

"Ti amo. Ti amo. Tu mi ami?" responds the handsome squeaky knight Gelato even louder. Those pants he's wearing are truly tight.

"Mi ami? Mi ami? Mi ami?" Amnesia and Memorandum ask each other over and again accompanied by the choir of thirty or so town folks.

"Ti amo. Mi ami?" scream Miranda and Gelato.

"Doesn't anybody love me?" screams the side-lined waiter Risotto who feels rejected like a half-eaten meal.

At this point a duel breaks out between the knight Gelato and the waiter Risotto. I can't quite make out the reason for this duel. But apparently you must have one in each opera. 

Gelato uses his sword and shield whilst Risotto uses his serving tray as a shield and an Italian bread-stick as a sword. He also keeps throwing bits of mozzarella at Gelato. 

At one point in this duel accompanied by a crescendo of music and singing, Gelato is hit in the eye by Risotto's Italian bread-stick.

Gelato falls to the ground holding his chest and singing ever so loudly.

“Son morto … son morto …” which means I am dead.

Instead of calling for an ambulance and taking him to the ER room at the hospital; the rest of the cast, including the chorus, join in the singing.

The more they sang, the more Gelato screamed "son morto" still holding his chest although technically I clearly saw he was hit with the Italian bread-stick in the eye.

Suddenly Risotto breaks into the finale song ...

"Mangerò Mangerò Mangerò ..." he sings " All'alba Mangeeeeeeeeeeròòòòòòòòòòò !!!!!!!!" 

(Caruso and Pavarotti would have been proud of him. But they were not there that evening).

The audience stood up on its feet to rapturous applause which lasted until the fat lady stopped singing.