Ivor Faith

 

In Hebrews Chapter 11 we read: To have faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see. 

Or put another way to have faith is to believe when your common sense tells you not to.

These days we hear a lot about faith. In a noisy world with too many voices and perhaps few listening, everyone seems to have faith in something or someone. It could be faith in one's own ability, faith in a close relationship such as a spouse or a friend, faith in money, power, possessions, or faith in other beliefs like the universe and the stars and planets controlling our destiny.

It isn't the strength of our faith that matters, but the object of our faith.

In the book of Kings (Chapter 18 onwards) we read that whilst Elijah worshipped God, Ahab and his followers worshipped the false god Baal.

So Ahab summoned all the Israelites and the prophets of Baal to meet at Mount Carmel. Elijah suggested that Baal's followers as well as he would offer a sacrifice to their respective God. He said, "let the prophets of Baal pray to their god, and I will pray to the LORD, and the one who answers by sending fire--he is God."

The prophets of Baal took the bull that was brought to them, prepared it, and prayed to Baal until noon. They shouted, "Answer us, Baal!" and kept dancing around the altar they had built. But no answer came.

At the hour of the afternoon sacrifice the prophet Elijah approached the altar and prayed, "O LORD, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, prove now that you are the God of Israel and that I am your servant and have done all this at your command. Answer me, LORD, answer me, so that this people will know that you, the LORD, are God and that you are bringing them back to yourself." 

The LORD sent fire down, and it burned up the sacrifice, the wood, and the stones, scorched the earth and dried up the water in the trench.

When the people saw this, they threw themselves on the ground and exclaimed, "The LORD is God; the LORD alone is God!"

So, how does this relate to us many years later? Do we really need fire from Heaven to make us believe in the one true living Creator God? Or is our faith, as little as it may be, enough to make us believe without proof or understanding?

"I am the way, the truth, and the life; no one goes to the Father except by me." John 14:6

The doctrines of falsehood

 

There seems to be a lot of new thinking amongst Christians about God and the modern world in the 21st Century. A lot of this thinking is muddled somehow and almost re-invents Christianity rather than adhering to what is Biblical and taught by Christ.

There is this belief that God is good, and kind, and loving and ever so merciful. That bit at least is true. Jesus taught this and His behaviour towards everyone He met seems to portray these qualities. 

However, this belief in God's loving nature seems to extend to the notion that such a God would not send anyone to hell for eternity. That bit is also, technically, true. 

God does not send anyone to hell. People decide to go there by their behaviour and the way they live. But this is not what is taught in modern thinking. The new version is that God loves us so much that He would not let anyone go to hell. He loves us so much that we would all be forgiven. His forgiving nature is such that He would even forgive the devil.

This type of teaching is nonsense and very dangerous. Whilst God is loving and forgiving He is no push-over. He is just and fair towards us and if some people stand against Him in defiance and enmity all their lives He would not invite them to Heaven. No one goes to Heaven against their will. 

If some souls are in hell it is because they chose to be there and continue their defiance. They are unable to seek forgiveness such is their belief and nature. 

I heard someone say that if God sends people to hell for eternity then this is not "my God" Whom I believe Him to be. What an arrogant thing to say. There is no such thing as "my God". There is only one God Who has always been and will always be. He is for everyone the same as He always was and will be. He is not a commodity to be chosen and moulded by us according to our wishes and what we would like Him to be. We either accept this or we don't. Sadly, many modern Christians are obfuscating the religion they profess by modernising it to their convenience.

When He gave us His Commandments He meant them to be taken literally. Not interpreted to suit our own selfish needs. What was wrong centuries ago is still wrong today and always will be.

Christianity seems to be in retreat. This not just because of the advance of secular thinking and the modern way of life; it is also because the very people who say they are Christians are diluting their very fundamental doctrines and leading themselves and their followers sleep-walking into the very hell which they deny exists.  

A Sad Story

I want to tell you a sad story.

A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless to protect his innocence and identity, had a terrible misfortune the other day. His name is Dr Quentin Ford, and he works as a medic in one of the hospitals nearby. 

I won't mention the hospital to protect Quentin's identity. He lives in an apartment block in a well-to-do part of town. High Vista Towers. Oh ... and he has a parrot too, named Coco, I believe. Not after Coco Chanel; but after his favourite drink. Coconut juice. That bit is important to the story. 

The fact that he has a parrot; not the fact that he loves coconut juice. Are you following so far? Because I am totally confused, I tell you.

Let's start from the beginning. Dr Quentin is a friend of mine and he lives in High Vista apartment block. Apartment number 728. Apart from that, I will not mention anything more about him.

He trained to be a heart specialist, but because he is so short he ended up specialising in knee surgery instead. That bit is not as important to the story as his possession of a parrot; in fact it is not relevant at all.

Anyway, one morning last week Quentin Ford noticed that the tap, (faucet), in his bath was dripping. It was a slow drip from the faucet into the bath.

He called a plumber who agreed to attend within the hour. That in itself is a miracle because usually plumbers do not come out in an emergency within a period of ten years. Anyway, the plumber said that the dripping tap, (faucet), will cause no great problem or flooding as the water will go down the plug hole, and that he'll attend straight-away.

Moments later my friend Quentin, the doctor, was called for an emergency at the hospital. Apparently a man had water on the knee. The nurse there diagnosed that he was not aiming straight.

In his rush, Quentin forgot about the plumber.

About an hour later the plumber arrived at the apartment and rang the door bell. Quentin's parrot shouted from inside the apartment, "Who is it?"

The plumber said, "I am the plumber. I have come to fix the dripping tap!"

The parrot said again, "Who is it?"

The plumber replied, "I am the plumber. I have come to fix the dripping tap!"

The parrot asked, "Who is it?"

The plumber repeated loudly, "I am the plumber. I have come to fix the dripping tap!"

The parrot went on, "Who is it?"

The plumber shouted, "I am the plumber. I have come to fix the dripping tap!"

This went on for a good few minutes. Eventually, the plumber who had a weak heart and weaker knees, suddenly collapsed and died.

A neighbour found him and phoned the police.

When the Detective Chief Inspector arrived on the scene he asked, "Does anyone know who he is?"

The parrot replied, "He is the plumber and he has come to fix the dripping tap!"

That's my life

 

I don't know about you, but I've been rather tired lately. It's as if my batteries are running down and my get-up and go has got up and gone.

This morning my boss at work said, "This is the third time you've been late for work this week. Do you know what that means?"

I said, "It means today's Wednesday!"

As it happened, on my way to work I bumped into an old friend I had not seen for years. I thought he'd be happy to see me. But he kept going on about the damage I did to his car.

It all started going wrong as soon as I left home. My wife said, "Our neighbour always kisses his wife when he goes to work. Why don't you do that?"

I replied, "How can I? I don't even know her!"

My wife doesn't understand me. Or to be precise, I don't understand her ... or women in general.

The other day my wife asked me to pass her her lipstick; but I accidentally passed her a glue stick instead. She gave me the silent treatment.

My wife and I like to keep fit. Last week, as a surprise, I swapped the double bed in the bedroom for a trampoline. She hit the roof.

I joined an early morning "online" keep fit club. You switch on the TV and join in with everyone else to do your exercises. I got up early. leaving my wife in bed, and got downstairs to get changed out of my pyjamas and into a tight fitting pink leotard. It was quite a job trying to wriggle into that elasticated one-piece contraption several sizes too small. At one point my foot got stuck and I fell over backwards with my legs in the air.

I did not realise that the camera on the TV comes on automatically. The rest of the class said I was quite entertaining ... ... ... and fit!  

I then put some corn flakes in a bowl and watched the news on TV. They said that a midget fortune-teller had escaped from prison. The headline was, "Small medium at large".

This happened when a prison van, with him and other prisoners on board, had collided with a lorry full of mixed concrete. The police are looking for some hardened criminals.

In another crime related story, it was reported that a hole had been found in the local nudist-camp wall. The police are looking into it.

They then entered the premises and interviewed a number of people airing their differences. The police believed that the members were withholding evidence, but the nudists insisted they had nothing to hide.

They also interviewed another midget who could not keep his nose out of peoples' private business.

 

Saint Joseph

 

On the left side of St Vincent church, right in front by the Altar, just by the Sacristy door, there’s a large statue of Our Lady. On the right side of the altar, hanging on the wall, there’s a picture of St Vincent, the Patron Saint of the church.

Mother Superior found in the Convent, in an old storeroom, a large statue of St Joseph and the baby Jesus. It was exactly the same size as the statue of Our Lady.

She suggested to Father Ignatius that the statue be restored and put on the right of the Altar, and for the picture of St Vincent to be moved elsewhere in the Church.

On the appointed day the beautifully restored statue of St Joseph was put in its rightful place on the right side of the church and Father Ignatius led a short prayer meeting for all involved. A few nuns from the convent were there, as well as the restorer and a few helpers, and Mrs Davenport the priests’ housekeeper.

After leading the prayers Father Ignatius said a few words.

“I’m so glad that Mother Superior suggested we put this statue here to honor St Joseph; and I thank her for her kindness and generosity in donating the statue which was found in the convent.

“I’d like us to think for a while about St Joseph as an individual.

“Here we have a man, often depicted in pictures and statues as being a little advanced in age, we don’t know really how old he was when he met Mary … but she always looks much younger doesn’t she?

“Anyway … here we have a man intending to marry the young lady he loves and no doubt start a family which he will look after by way of his job as a humble carpenter.

“When one day he finds out she is pregnant. I don’t know about you … but I’d feel really hurt and cheated if it happened to me. How could she? And I trusted her so?

“Aren’t these the thoughts that would cross your minds … Peter, Ken and Mark?”

He looked at the three young men in the little prayer group and they smiled coyly.

“And I’d bet if it happened to you you’d run a mile in the opposite direction … wouldn’t you?” he asked them.

They did not reply.

“Oh … but there’s more …” said the priest, “not only did Joseph’s girlfriend promise him that she did not cheat on him … no, wait for it. She tells him that she is carrying the Son of God. Yes … she is pregnant by the Holy Spirit and she’s carrying the Son of God.

“Now in those days it would have been a great scandal to have a baby if you’re not married. You would have been ostracized by your family for a start for bringing shame upon them.

“Chances are you would have been stoned to death too …

“But to say that you’re carrying the Son of God from a Virgin pregnancy would have been blasphemy of the highest order. Either that, or people would have thought you’d lost your mind … simply gone mad and left to suffer the consequences.

“Yet, despite all these risks to her good name and indeed to her safety Mary had the courage and the Faith to trust in God and say ‘Yes’ when the Angel visited her. We should always be grateful for her saying ‘Yes’.

“Can you imagine? An Angel appeared to her … if it was me I’d probably fall off my chair with fright at the sight of such a visitation.”

They all laughed.

“And can you imagine poor old Joseph? His head must have been really spinning in a daze … and without the benefit of a Guinness or two!

“First she tells him she’s pregnant, then she says it’s a Virgin birth and the baby is the Son of God.

“Over to you three young men … what would you do in such circumstances?”

He paused for a second or two and did not give them time to reply.

“But the Angel appeared to Joseph in a dream … we don’t know if it was the same Angel Gabriel, but never mind. And like Mary, Joseph too has great Faith and he believes what he is told. He stays with Mary and raises the young infant as any good father would. And for this too we should be always grateful.

“I am very pleased to have the statue of St Joseph and the baby Jesus here and that of Our Lady on the other side of the Altar over there. The Holy Family on either side of the Altar reminding us of Faith in God and parental responsibility.

“I would like now to read you a short prayer to St Joseph. This prayer is said to be over 1900 years old. It was found in the fiftieth year of Our Lord Jesus Christ. In the 1500's it was sent by the Pope to Emperor Charles when he was going into battle. It is a novena to be prayed for nine consecutive mornings for anything you may desire. It has seldom been known to fail.

“O St. Joseph whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the Throne of God, I place in you all my interests and desires. O St. Joseph do assist me by your powerful intercession and obtain for me from your Divine Son all spiritual blessings through Jesus Christ, Our Lord; so that having engaged here below your Heavenly power I may offer my Thanksgiving and Homage to the most Loving of Fathers. O St. Joseph, I never weary contemplating you and Jesus asleep in your arms. I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press him in my name and kiss His fine Head for me, and ask Him to return the Kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, Patron of departing souls, pray for us. Amen.”

Why always me?

The letter got miss-delivered by the postman. It clearly says on the envelope Number 1245 and we definitely are not Number 1245. I decide to walk up the street and deliver the letter to its rightful owner.

The old lady saw me approaching her house and opened the door.

“Oh, thank you” she said, “come in for a cup of tea!”

“I was just delivering …” I mumbled.

“Oh do come in …” she interrupted, “I often see you walking the dog to the park and back again. I’ve just put the kettle on …”

I looked at my watch and thought, she’s probably lonely, and just a few minutes won’t hurt!

I entered the living room and immediately noticed a large parrot standing on a perch in the corner, and two budgerigars on top of their open cage near the window. An old dog at least one hundred years old sat by the fire and a cat slept on the settee.

The old lady beckoned me to an armchair and went out to make some tea. 

As soon as she left, the large blue parrot moved his head left and right, as they do; looked at me and screeched “STUPID!”

 

I jumped out of the seat, not expecting him to talk.

He repeated again “STUPID … STUPID …” over and over every minute or so.

The old lady came in with a tray of tea and biscuits and cakes.

“Ah … Polly is being friendly” she said, “he often hears me talking to the dog and repeats what I say.”

At that point the parrot screeched “STUPID HAT … STUPID HAT …”

Let me tell you there is nothing stupid about my cowboy hat with a feather. It’s sartorial elegance in the extreme as I’ve been told by the man in the pub who sold it to me!

“I wonder what he means?” said the old lady trying to cover her faux pas. No doubt she’d seen me wearing the hat on my way to the park and had voiced her un-called for opinions to her pets.

She offered me a piece of cake. As soon as I held the small plate in one hand, and a tea cup in another, the geriatric dog got up ever so slowly from his mat, came towards me and started sniffing my groin.

What is it with dogs and sniffing people inappropriately? I’ll add, in case you’re wondering, that I just showered that morning and had splashed Old Spice after-shave all over, even though I have a beard and don’t shave. So there was no need to sniff there or anywhere else.

“Oh … he’s being friendly” repeated the old lady, making no attempt whatsoever to take the dog away, “It’s his way of greeting you!”

Well … I’d rather not be greeted that way, thank you very much.

I mean … just imagine … what if we humans greeted each other that way? We meet someone for the first time, and instead of shaking hands, we drop on our knees and sniff to our heart’s delight.

Obviously, there should be a protocol as to who goes down first. Otherwise both people would kneel down together and end up bumping their heads.

One person should stay standing, and the other greets him … or her … and then …

OK … better change the subject.

I pushed the dog away … gently … yes … gently; although I must admit that was not what was on my mind when he started sniffing his welcome.

As soon as the dog went back on his mat the cat woke up from the settee and jumped on the arm of my armchair; and then started licking my hand.

I moved away slowly whilst the old lady, totally unaware of my discomfort, continued prattling on about her family and her children all grown up and living abroad. No doubt to escape from her lunatic menagerie.

The cat, still sitting next to me, having been denied the taste of my hand proceeded to lick himself in the most private of places.

Yet again … this is another annoying habit of the feline as well as canine species which, fortunately, we humans do not copy. The mind boggles at the contortions we’d have to make if we were to reach … OK … you get the point; let’s move on.

I moved surreptitiously towards the cat and nudged him gently. He dropped to the floor and walked out the room.

I listened to the old lady going on about her lonely life with no one to visit her; and how she often just goes out on the bus so that she can meet people, or stands at the window looking at people pass by and imagine what kind of life they lead. 

 

She said she plays a mind-game when she sees people. She looks carefully at what they wear and then guesses the sort of work they do. She also likes to name people in her head according to how they dress, the way they walk, and their general demeanour.

She said she’d been watching me take the dog for a walk for a very long time. “Do you realise” she said, “that whenever you stop by that tree to allow the dog to sniff at its roots, you always scratch the back of your head? Why do you do that?”

I’ll admit I never noticed that habit. And now I'm told, I’m sure I’ll resist that particular temptation in future. I’ll do all my scratching that’s needed before I leave home from now on.

She was about to tell me what nickname she had invented for me when suddenly there was a flutter of wings.

The parrot left its perch and made himself comfortable on my shoulder. I did not dare move an inch. Those creatures can be dangerous you know. Once they get hold of your nose in their beaks they will not let go.

“Oh … Polly likes you too!” said the old lady joyfully, “it must be your gentle and kind personality. Animals know when someone loves them. Do you like birds?” she asked.

I hesitated to tell her that the only birds I like are Kentucky Fried Chickens; although right now I would not mind tasting Kentucky Fried Parrot as well.

She didn’t wait for an answer and continued talking ignoring her feathered friend on my shoulder.

The wretched bird, still sitting by my left ear, eyed the big feather in my hat for a few moments, and then, to my horror, jumped at it and attempted to mate with it. 

 

I held the hat tightly on my head with my right hand for fear that it might be dislodged and end up matrimonially united with a myopic parrot.

I mean … how short-sighted can he get? It’s only a feather for crying out loud. Who’s STUPID now? Can’t tell the difference between a beautiful lady parrot and a feather in a cowboy hat!

The old lady laughed, not understanding the situation, and said that he was welcoming me into his domain. Whatever that means!

I had absolutely no wish to be welcomed anywhere belonging to that stupid creature, and my hat and feather certainly shared this opinion.

The parrot struggled vainly with his amorous advances at my hat and started to flutter his wings wildly and squawking loudly, no doubt upset at being snubbed by his new-found lady friend.  

Eventually the old lady realised that I was somewhat uneasy, to put it mildly. She got up slowly from her chair and removed the parrot from its clutches on my hat and replaced him back on his perch.

She then turned to me and asked whether I’d like to meet the budgerigars still sitting on their cage preening themselves.

I made an excuse about having a meeting somewhere or other and left hurriedly.

And that’s another cowboy hat with a feather totally ruined!

Les Parrots

An eccentric friend of mine went to a high class pet shop and bought two parrots which he displayed proudly in the grounds of his house out in the country. He was told that one of the parrots was a fluent talker, whilst the other was rather shy and had never said a word; albeit he showed promise and needed a little care and attention.

Once he had the pair home he approached their enclosure and started repeating inane words like "Pretty Polly ... who's a pretty boy ..." and so on, in the hope that the parrots would repeat what he said; which is what parrots are supposed to do.

To his surprise, the talkative parrot replied in French "Vous êtes un imbécile, monsieur!"

My friend was totally surprised, not so much at the insult, but at the fact that the parrot addressed him in French. Parrots are supposed to speak in English aren't they?

Before my friend could utter another word, and plenty came readily to mind, believe me, the French parrot started reciting Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables".

On and on he continued reciting from Victor Hugo, Molliere, Racine, Camus and others, so well read in French literature that parrot was. My friend was totally mesmerised at this even though he could not understand a word the parrot was saying.

He tried to get the other parrot to speak, but to no avail. The silent one remained ever so.

The problem was that my friend could not tell apart which parrot was which, they were so identical. So he could not proudly tell his friends he has a French talking parrot if, as sometimes happened, neither would oblige. So he rang the pet shop for advice.

The pet shop owner said that the French speaking parrot was the male, and he was very amourous. All that my friend had to do is creep on the pair late at night and when he spied the French parrot saying to the other one "Je t'aime mon amour!", all he had to do is to put a collar on him to distinguish him as the talking male.

This my friend did quite successfully and he collared the male parrot as advised.

A few days later my friend had a few visitors to come and see the parrots, and amongst them was the local Parish priest. As the group approached the birds' cage the male parrot said to the priest in a French accent "Alors, mon ami. I see zey caught you at it too!"

To which the other parrot said in a Spanish accent "Hola señor!" 

Heads I win, Tails you lose.

 

It's amazing how many people claim that they are not "spiritual" and they don't believe in God or Christianity in general, yet they hope to go to Heaven. Without even having a concept of what Heaven is and what they would do if they get there. 

Most people think it is a nice place like somewhere they have experienced here on earth only better; with Angels and Saints and whatever else they imagine or may have been taught or read about at some time or other.

For avoidance of doubt, going to Heaven is not a question of luck. It is not a lottery. It is not the result of tossing a coin to see whether it lands heads or tails. 

God does not play games with us.

Whether we go to Heaven or not starts right here on earth in this lifetime. We lay down the foundation, the ground work, and the path to our eventual eternal destiny. 

No one goes to hell by mistake or through bad luck; and no one goes to Heaven against their will.

One cannot claim not to believe in God yet hope to spend eternity with Him in Heaven. To those who do not believe in Him, God provides plenty of opportunities in their lifetimes to think about and reconsider their options. No one will get a surprise when it is their turn to meet their Creator God.

Yet there is a belief in today's secular world that all that is required of us is to be generally good to enter Heaven.

True, God's invitation is to everyone. But we have to respond to His invitation. It is not an automatic entry pass to Paradise.

To get to Heaven we must believe in God, honour and love Him, and obey Him.

A life without a strong foundation and belief in God cannot expect to spend eternity with Him in Heaven.

Meanwhile, many are sleep-walking their way into hell.

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Reputation

 

When I worked for a large international organisation my secretary used to arrange appointments for me to travel up and down the country and meet various regional managers to discuss various issues.

Most of the people I used to visit I had not met before. I remember going to an office once and as I introduced myself the man I was meeting said, "Hi ... I heard a lot about you; your reputation precedes you!"

He never explained whether it was a good or a bad reputation. What did people think of me, I wonder?

How about you? What is your reputation amongst family and friends? 

Are you always the life and soul of the party? Do people gather around you to hear your witty stories and jokes?

Or are you the grumpy one that people avoid or tolerate politely?

If we're honest, we all have a reputation; even though we might not know what others think of us.

How much should we be aware of our reputation? And if in any way negative, how much should we try to change to become more likeable? Should we change despite our principles on a particular subject or topic? What is the right balance between compromise to be liked and standing up for our principles and beliefs?

Life has become a popularity contest these days. Everyone wants to be popular it seems. You can see it on TV where everyone is a celebrity despite their lack of talents or personality. Just because they've appeared on a reality show; they are suddenly a celebrity, a personality, someone to look up to.

It's the same on social media, where everyone is posting photos and articles about themselves to impress perfect strangers who, for some reason, "follow" them and "like" what they say.

I've heard it said that some people post photos of luxury houses, and cars etc ... and pretend that it is theirs just to impress and encourage perfect strangers to "follow" their posts.

Now here's a thought: What is your reputation in the eyes of God?

What does He think of you? Is it a good reputation that would want Him to "like" you? Or is it such that would embarrass Jesus and make Him ashamed of you?

But whoever denies and disowns Me before men, I also will deny and disown him before My Father Who is in Heaven. Matthew 10:33

Angry Vengeful God

Imagine you've died and gone to Heaven.

Joy of joys !!! At last, you've made it. God has seen it fit for you to deserve Heaven. An eternity with Him. You are so glad, more than you've ever been your entire life.

You look around and meet old friends and relatives who have made it here too. You greet them with a tear in your eye - a tear of joy as well as a little sadness when you remember how you missed them and cried when they were gone!

You renew old acquaintances as well as make new ones as you meet the Saints you've read so much about but had never met.

Then you realise someone is missing. 

A relative, or friend, whom you'd expected to see here is missing. You ask St Peter and he confirms your suspicion. That person is not here.

Is he in transit? In the Purification Center we call Purgatory, perhaps?

No ... he is ... in the other place.

Your joy turns to sadness, confusion, despair even. How can it be? You so expected to be with that person in Heaven for eternity.

What do you do?

Seek an explanation from God? Perhaps there's been a mistake! Ask Him to re-consider. Plead with Him even? Beg that this person is brought up to Heaven?

Has that person's absence tarnished your joy of being in Heaven? Changed your view of God's justice and mercy?

How can you possibly be here in Heaven for ever, knowing full well that a dear loved one is in the other place and will never join you?
 

On the Cross Jesus forgave those who dared to inflict so much suffering and death to the Son of God. What more heinous sin could your relative or friend have committed to deserve an eternity in hell? If God forgave those who killed His Son; and they probably didn't ask for forgiveness, why can't He forgive your relative or friend missing right now?

Your human sense of justice; and your understanding and perspective of forgiveness and mercy would like things to be different and, no matter what that person has done in life, you wish him here with you in Heaven.

But God does not work like that. His perspective is not a human perspective. He decided otherwise.

In Luke 16:19-31 we read that the rich man in "the other place" pleaded that his brothers may not join him there. But his pleadings were met with the response that each person makes his or her own decisions in life, and by their actions they choose whether to go to Heaven or not.

No one goes to hell by mistake. We choose to go there. And many, by their actions, are sleep-walking their way to hell.

The time for action and prayers is now.

And yet ... what if we're one day in Heaven and our loved one is not there? What then?

Illogical Logic

 Logic it seems isn’t always what it is perceived to be and no matter how much you try to understand the other person’s logic you might end up failing. This could be either because of your inability to understand, or because the other person’s logic is faulty – as Father Ignatius can testify.

He was walking round town the other day and happened to enter a bookshop advertising “Reduced Prices throughout the Store !!!”.

He made his way to the “Religion” shelf to see what was on offer and eventually found a book about Jesus which he wished to purchase. It had a big red label on it saying: Reduced price - £9.99.

He thought of buying two copies, one for him and another for a parishioner who would benefit from reading it. He looked around on the shelf and found another identical book; but without the red label.

When he reached the cashier to pay for both items purchased she said: “£29.99 please.”

“Why?” said the priest, rather puzzled.

“This book is priced £20.00 and this one is £9.99” replied the robotic assistant.

“But they’re identical, and they’re reduced in price aren’t they?” enquired Father Ignatius.

“Only the one with the red label is on offer for £9.99; the other book is charged at the full price of £20.00” replied the cashier monotonously.

At this moment the manager happened to be passing by and overheard the conversation.

“May I help you Sir … Reverend … Father …” he mumbled when he noticed the priest’s white collar.

“Let me explain,” continued the manager, “every morning we go to check our stock of books and stick red labels on some of them. Those with the labels are reduced in price; whilst others are not.”

“I understand,” reasoned Father Ignatius, “but both these books are identical. Surely they should be priced the same?”

“Not so,” insisted the manager who obviously knew best. He was, after all, in charge of the shop, “not so at all … this book with the label we’ll sell at £9.99 whereas the other one we’ll sell at the full price of £20.00; regardless whether they are identical or not.”

Father Ignatius is a tenacious character when he feels it needs it; and he certainly likes a challenge of wits. So he tried one more time to make the man see sense:

“Tell me … it is possible, is it not, that when you stick these labels in the morning, that you stick the red labels on two identical books?”

“Oh yes … it happens frequently …”

“And when it happens, then you’d sell two copies of the same book at the reduced price?” said the priest sensing a minor but very important victory.

“Oh yes … in that case we would sell two or more copies of the same book at the reduced price, provided they had the red labels on them.”

Father Ignatius smiled broadly. “Game, set and match!” he thought to himself.

“But on this occasion unfortunately we stuck a label on only one book. So you’ll have to buy this one for £9.99 and this one for the full price of £20.00.”

The priest’s smile soon faded when the manager continued:

“May I suggest you buy the book with the label today, and come back tomorrow? It is possible that there will be another identical book with a label on it then. Although I can’t guarantee it … but if you come back every other day or so then perhaps you’ll find another copy of the book reduced in price then !!!”

Father Ignatius gave up. There’s no point in engaging in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.

He now had to make a quick decision and had three choices:

To leave the shop and not buy the books.

To buy both books for the asking price of £29.99 and effectively, tacitly, agree with the manager’s faulty logic.

To buy the cheaper of the two books and leave it at that. Which is what he did.

“It’s a shame” he thought to himself,” as he left the shop. I would have liked to give a copy of this book to Mark. He’s always a helpful parishioner when we need him … perhaps he can borrow my copy when I’ve read it …”

It seems that the angels may well have overheard his thoughts because a little further down the road he came across another bookshop.

“I wonder …” said Father Ignatius.

And sure enough, he found there an identical book selling even cheaper at £8.99. A saving of £1; which he put in the collection box at St Vincent Church. 

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS BOOKS

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