Much Ado About Pants

Why is it when things go wrong they continue to go wrong like a chain of events one triggering the other?

I was at a posh hotel preparing to give an important speech to a group of managers about our budget plans and future forecasts.

It was a two-days Conference and mine was the keynote speech before everyone packed their bags and went back to their homes.

I was in my hotel room packing my suitcase and getting dressed in my best suit ready to face my audience. As I put my leg in the trousers my foot somehow caught the inner turn-up of the trousers and tore into the stitching. The trousers were not torn but obviously with the turn-ups loose one trouser leg was now much longer than the other.

How can I fix it with only a short time to go before I’m supposed to stand on stage facing all these people?

Needle and thread … that’s what I need. What’s the use? Men are no good with needles and thread … I wouldn’t know what to do if I had any anyway.

What else can I use to keep the turn-up back in its original place?

Pins … must find some pins … no … there aren’t any either.

How about paper clips? I have some in my briefcase … no … they don’t hold so well. They keep moving and are clearly visible from a distance. I can’t stand on stage with one foot behind my leg as if I need to go to the toilet.

What if I use the sticky-tape to tape the turn-up back in place? It doesn’t hold very well. It falls down again. There must be something else in my briefcase I can use.

Aha … necessity is the mother of invention … my stapler!!!

I can staple the turn up back in place.

I raise my foot on the chair and click … click … click … click … a few staples later and the turn-ups are back in place. I feel proud of my ingenuity.

I go to the basin to wash my hands.

Why is it that hotel basins are so designed that when you open the faucet the water rushes into the basin, swivels round at speed, and splashes all over the front of your trousers with embarrassing results?

And why does it happen when you’re in a hurry?

I can hardly stand in front of all these people giving the impression that I have been caught short? I have no other suit to change into.

I try desperately to dry the trousers with a towel but the large stain on my front is still clearly visible.

Even if I button up my jacket the wet stain is still there for all to notice.

Aha … I remember seeing a hair-dryer in one of the drawers.

Plug it in … stand in front of the mirror and blow hot air on the stain. Hopefully it will dry quickly and in time for me to get down and give my speech.

Wow … this hair-dryer is hot!!!

And noisy too!!!

So noisy that I did not hear the hotel maid knocking at the door and entering the room.

She is standing there behind me watching as I get forever hotter. One can only imagine what she’s thinking.

“Eh … my trousers …” I mumble, “they’re wet … I’m trying to dry them … I got them wet with water … from the basin …” I try to explain incoherently as my mind becomes more and more confused with the situation.

“I understand Sir,” she replies with a smile, “have you tried the trouser-press? If you fold the trousers in here the heat will soon dry the … water.”

I did not like the pause before she said “water”. She’s got the situation all wrong.

She pulls out the trouser-press from its compartment and switches it on. “It is ready now Sir!” she says with a smile.

“Eh … I think it is better if you now leave,” I mumble again, “I’ll take it from here!”

“Of course Sir!” she smiles broadly as she leaves the room.

I try to take the trousers off in a hurry … drat … why is this stupid trouser leg stuck? I nearly trip standing on one leg and fall back on the bed … drat and double drat … the leg turn-up is stapled to my sock … how did that happen? How did I staple the trousers to the sock whilst I’m still wearing it? Would you believe it? Now of all times I have a pair of trousers stuck to a sock at the end of my foot.

Too late to untangle it! Take off the sock as well as the trousers and put the whole lot in the press. Close the press. Turn on the heat to maximum so the stain dries quicker.

Open the press and put the trousers back on in a hurry … GEEEEEEE … that is HOT!!!!!

I hop from foot to foot wandering whether I have done myself a mischief.

Now I put the stapled sock back on. It is still warm too.

Later that afternoon whilst I was checking out at the hotel reception with my boss the chambermaid passes by and asks me “Did your trousers dry OK Sir?”

My boss looks at me with raised eyebrows and says nothing.

But the chain of disasters does not end there.

As I get to my car and pull out my car key from my pocket I find that the plastic top where the automatic car-opening system is, has been totally melted by the hot trouser-press.

Luckily, I had a spare car key which I always carry in my briefcase.

Confrontation for Father Ignatius

Father Ignatius sat down in his compartment and prepared for the long journey ahead. It was one of those old fashioned trains with separate compartments seating eight people per cubicle facing each other. Luckily, this compartment was empty so the priest took out his book and started reading. It was dark outside and it had begun to snow.

Just as the train started pulling out of the station a man in his thirties entered the compartment and sat opposite the priest.

“It’s cold outside …” he said blowing in his hands to keep them warm.

“Isn’t it just!” smiled the priest.

The man sat down, crossed his arms to keep warm and started to tap his feet gently. Father Ignatius ignored him and continued reading.

A few moments later the man got up and started fiddling with the heating control in the compartment. He turned it to the left, then again to the right, and then he put his hand against the air vents.

“I’m sure these controls are only here for show,” he said, “they don’t work at all. They put them here to make you think you’re in control. But you’re in control of nothing on these trains I tell you!”

At this precise moment the train must have crossed a point as it tilted slightly off-balancing the man who fell back into his seat.

Father Ignatius bit his lip to stop him from laughing.

“Eternal damnation …” cursed the man … followed by “oops … sorry … I shouldn’t have sworn … you’re a priest aren’t you?”

“Yes I am,” replied Father Ignatius.

The man sat down peevishly for a few moments, rubbing his hands against each other to the sound of the train moving slowly on the rails. Clackety clack … clackety clack … clackety clack.

“So you’re a priest …” declared the man after a few minutes silence. It was obvious that Father Ignatius was not meant to read his book right now. He looked up and smiled.

“So what would you say to an atheist like me?” continued the man.

“I would say nothing and continue reading,” said Father Ignatius.

“Would you not try to convince me that I am wrong?”

“No … I wouldn’t.”

The man frowned. “Why is that? I thought you priests are meant to preach to people like me … and try to save us … that’s your job.”

Father Ignatius closed his book and put it away. He took off his glasses and started cleaning them.

“In my experience,” he said “people like you don’t need convincing. You already know you are right.”

“How’s that?”

“Do you believe in God?”

“No. Of course not. I’ve already said so.”

“And that’s precisely what I meant … you are so sure that there is no God that there is no point in convincing you otherwise. Somehow, you have proved to yourself a negative. There is no God. And no amount of discussion or debate will change your mind.”

“I’m certain of it,” declared the young man, “there is no such thing as God.”

“I admire your Faith,” smiled the priest, “ironically, you have more Faith in your belief than many Christians I know have in their belief that God exists. You’d be surprised how many live in doubt and confusion about their Christian beliefs.”

“There you are then … at least we un-believers have no doubts …”

“Doubts aren’t such a bad thing … it is possible to believe in God and have doubts too … doubts help you question your beliefs and in certain circumstances can even strengthen your Faith … God has given us the luxury to doubt. To question, to analyse, and to think. And then to come to the conclusion that He truly exists.”

“So you’ve proved to yourself that God exists?” asked the man.

“No … God proved it to me. He found me willing to take a chance … keep an open mind and dare to believe without any proof at all. And my first faltering steps into believing were rewarded … in time … by enough evidence for me to be certain of God’s existence and His love for us.”

“Wow …”

“Wow indeed,” continued Father Ignatius, “all it takes is your courage and willingness to step out in blind Faith and want to believe … He’ll provide the proof you need in due course. You must dare to believe. Dare to lose control.”

“What do you mean?” asked the man sitting opposite the priest.

“A few minutes ago you tried to make that heating system work. You turned the knob one way and another and you felt totally out of control. You said as much … you’re in control of nothing on these trains … those were your exact words.”

“That’s right … I’ve never known any of these systems to work …”

“When you think about it,” continued the priest, “there’s very little in life you are really in control of.

“You’re on this train, but you don’t control what time it leaves the station, what time it arrives and what speed it travels.

“You don’t control the state of your health. Anything could happen to alter it; an accident for instance could totally change your lifestyle.

“You don’t control whether you’ll remain in your present job permanently, or if you’re self-employed whether you’ll continue to be successful.

“You don’t control your marriage, if you’re married that is. Anything could happen to you, your wife and children …

“You may try to influence these things by your behaviour but you do not really control the outcomes.”

“But …” hesitated the man, “someone is ultimately in control. The Government for instance …”

“No … not even Governments or authorities … there are always things that happen which are beyond their control. They may plan for them, try to influence events, prepare for all circumstances … but they’re not in control.

“Only God is in ultimate control of everything which happens in this world and in the whole universe.

“Whether you believe in Him or not does not alter the fact that He controls everything and everyone. He controls with ultimate, unconditional and total love.”

“This is my stop approaching … I have to get off now … I’m sorry I was so rude earlier on … I promise I’ll look further into this … you’ve certainly given me something to think about …

“I like what you said … Dare to believe without any proof … Dare to lose control … I might give it a try …”

The man excused himself and left the compartment.

Father Ignatius smiled and then started praying for him.

PAIN

It’s funny how your mind wanders when you’re sitting in a doctor’s waiting-room. I thought:

Jesus died at the age of thirty-three.

He never lived to a ripe old age and, as a human, whom He was, as well as being God, He never got to experience what we humans experience as we grow old.

The pains of rheumatism and arthritis. The slowing down of our body and the inability to run or walk as fast as we used to. The odd lapse of memory. Difficulty with hearing or with seeing properly; and the many other ailments which beset us as we grow old.

Had He grown old like some of us do; would He have used His powers to heal Himself and take away the pain?

Of course, all this is pure speculation. The reality is that He died a most horrible and painful death on the Cross, which far far outweighs whatever ailments we suffer from as we grow old.

The fact that He has not experienced our old age, or any other experiences we go through in this world, does not mean that He doesn’t understand them and that He does not hurt when we hurt.

He feels our pain because He loves us. He accepted the torture of His death because He loves us.

Perhaps we too should try, as best we can, to understand and accept our age related pains with dignity. For His sake.

I know an elderly man who has had many illnesses and operations – he is in constant pain. Whenever I ask him how he is doing, he replies: Thank God I am OK – there are so many so much worse off than me.

Lately, he chuckled and added: Pain is a sign that you are still alive. When you stop feeling pain that’s when you should worry.

Dear Lord help those in pain right now. Amen.

Hilda, Kenneth and Robert – Ménages à trois ?

I received an unexpected phone call from a colleague at work who had retired a year ago. She’s a pleasant acquaintance rather than a friend as such and in conversation she said that her husband had passed away and that she had moved to a two-hundred years old thatched roof cottage out in the country.

She was her usual jovial self on the phone and, somewhat surprisingly, she invited me to visit her for the day so we could catch-up on old times.

I was not that keen on the idea, but she insisted and I was persuaded to go and see Hilda.

She was her usual bubbly self as we sat down to tea and biscuits reminiscing about work. After she retired she left the city and moved with her husband to the countryside and then he died a few months later.

I nodded politely and made small talk wandering why she had insisted on this visit and then it came … right out of the blue.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked. “You know … you having beliefs and all that? Are there ghosts do you think?”

Before I could answer she went on “The reason I ask is because I believe this house is haunted. I wanted to speak to someone about it and then I remembered you from work.”

“What makes you think the house is haunted?” I asked, “Have you seen anything?”

“Not seen as such,” she replied, “but I heard him … Robert … he’s often screeching especially at night.”

“Robert …” I repeated politely and then after a short pause I asked “is Robert your husband?”

“Oh no …” she laughed, “my husband was called Kenneth. He did not die here. He died in hospital. And he’s far too lazy to haunt me! He was so lazy that if he ever fainted he’d need help to get him to the ground” she giggled.

“I see …” I said still not seeing where all this was leading to. “So Robert must have lived in this old cottage centuries ago?”

“No … no …” she giggled again, “He lived here with us. Robert died here four weeks ago and a few days later his ghost started haunting the place!”

My mind started doing somersaults wandering who Robert was. Was he a lodger? A boy-friend? Living with her and her husband? How did he die? Was it a tragic accident? Or something more sinister?

She interrupted my train of thoughts and totally derailed it by declaring “Robert was my parrot!”

“Parrot?” I repeated.

“Yes … he was my parrot. I got up one morning and found him off his perch. He was lying on his back on the ground with his feet pointing upwards as stiff as a board. I buried him in the garden!”

“And you believe a parrot is haunting this house?” I asked tentatively not believing I’d ever ask such a question.

“No doubt about it … I hear him screeching at night when I’m in bed. I think he’s frightened when I put on my face cream and have my hair in curlers … he’s never seen me like that when he was alive!”

I imagined her in face cream and curlers and suppressed a smile crossing my legs tightly for extra security. I suppose the sight of a woman in cream and curlers would frighten the most threatening of ghosts.

“Well …” I hesitated, “I’ve heard of people seeing ghosts but never the ghost of a parrot before!”

“I’ve not seen him,” she said, “only heard him. I’ve asked a ghost exorcist to come today. That’s why I asked you here.”

About an hour later a man in his fifties turned up carrying a small suitcase.

We sat in the main front room and he brought out a small metal plate explaining that first he needed to incense the place. He lit a few pieces of charcoal on the plate and then added what seemed to me an excess of incense.

There was smoke everywhere; so much so that we could not breathe or even see each other, and then we heard the screeching sound … it was the smoke alarms in the corridor and the kitchen which set off simultaneously.

The three of us stood up coughing and wheezing and dancing as we waved handkerchiefs and newspapers around the smoke alarms trying to dispel the smoke and silence the deafening sound.

Eventually all was quiet again and the man asked Hilda about the ghost.

“His name is Robert” she said, “he’s lived with me for 8 years!”

“Was he your husband?” asked the exorcist cum smoke-maker.

“No … my husband was called Kenneth” she replied “Robert has always been very dear to me and I’ve always loved him” she continued in all innocence not realizing how confusing her answers were.

“Can you describe him for me?” asked the ghost hunter “so that I can visualize him as I send him on his way …”

“He was green, about 11 inches tall and he had a wonderful personality.”

The man looked at her in total surprise as I stifled a guffaw and crossed my legs even more tightly; wishing I did not have that second cup of tea.

“I … I … don’t understand” he said hesitantly “green and only 11 inches tall?”

“Yes … our parrot had such a lovely personality. Even though he could not talk!” she explained with a smile.

“A parrot?” he mumbled, “do you mean to say that the ghost is a parrot?”

“Yes … I thought you knew”.

A cold sweat suddenly appeared on his forehead. He stood up and said “You didn’t tell me … I have to go … I have a morbid fear of parrots, all birds in fact … chicken especially. It’s their vicious beaks … I have nightmares about them!”

“But this isn’t a real bird” I said flippantly, “it can’t harm you, it’s a ghost bird!”

“They’re all the same … dead or alive … all birds have beaks … sharp ones. I was once chased by a turkey you know!” he continued as he gathered his paraphernalia in his suitcase.

“What am I to do?” she asked me after the man had gone “how am I to get rid of Robert’s ghost?”

“I thing the ghost has flown away after him to haunt him” I replied jokingly, “you’ll be OK now.”

As far as I know she has not been disturbed with screeching noises since.

Exhausted

There are times in life when we all get totally exhausted.

Whatever it is that occupies our time, be it work, raising a family, caring for others or doing voluntary service, takes so much out of us that we can no longer carry on.

It could also be a problem on our mind or some other concern that weighs us down to total weariness. We feel physically, mentally and emotionally drained.

Our exhaustion is not always just physical. Sometimes it is through years of carrying unnecessary baggage which originate way back in our past. Our up-bringing perhaps, broken and hurt relationships, misunderstandings, unhealed pains and regrets. They build up on our backs and become a part of us just like a camel's hump until the weight is too much to carry and with one more straw we flop down to the ground unable to stand.

Like a boxer who’s received too many knocks we feel like falling down and not get up ever again.

It is said that on His way to Calvary Jesus fell three times. Of course, this is not in Scripture, but we can assume that after being tortured and beaten, and forced to carry a heavy Cross made of sin, He would have fallen or stumbled at least once.

He could have stayed there on the ground and died on the spot. But He got up and went on to do His Father’s will.

Let this be an example to us when we’re so tired we feel like giving up. Let us try one more time for His sake.

“Come to me, all of you who are tired from carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest”. Matthew 11:28.

Father Ignatius visits the cellar

The basement under the church had been emptied of the junk which had accumulated over the years. Some young volunteers had painted the walls and ceiling of the three reclaimed rooms and corridor, and an electrician had connected the whole downstairs to the mains electricity.

The intention was to turn two rooms into meeting rooms and the third into a small kitchenette allowing people to make a cup of tea and prepare refreshments.

Father Ignatius ventured downstairs to check on progress.

Tom was alone busily tiling the floor. He had chosen pink and white tiles to match the colour of the rest of the room.



"Things are improving down here …” commented Father Ignatius as he stood by the doorway.

“They sure are …” replied Tom turning down the volume of his radio a little.

“Are these tiles already fixed?” asked the priest.

“Yes … some are already cemented in and they’re drying out nicely … these others over there I’ve yet to cement … why do you ask?”

“Well … pardon me for saying so Tom,” hesitated Father Ignatius, “those tiles over in that area by the wall are not very even … some are a few millimeters higher than the others … enough that you would notice them from here where I’m standing … and they seem to have been placed haphazardly, rather than full square side by side … eh … forgive me Tom, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it …”

“Oh don’t worry Father … no one will see them … I’ll be putting the kitchen cabinet here over them … so no one will know about my careless work …” chuckled Tom.

“Jesus will …” replied Father Ignatius quietly.

“Why … is He a works inspector now is He?” chuckled Tom again.

“Tom I’m very grateful to you for volunteering to do this work … this basement would not have been transformed so beautifully if it wasn’t for all you volunteers working together, clearing the old stuff that was here, painting the rooms and corridor and doing all this work … maybe I shouldn’t have said anything … please forgive me …”

“Oh don’t go away Father …” replied Tom as he got up from the floor to stretch his aching back, “if they’re that important to you I’ll fix those tiles again …”

“It’s not that Tom … I was just thinking … many people go through life enduring their job from day to day and treating it as a means to earn a living – and no more. I know you’re doing this for free … and I’m grateful to you and the other workers … but you know what I mean …

“And as time goes by, so does the pride people have in their work. They just do it as a job, and inevitably their standard of performance deteriorates.

“I feel that somehow this is an insult to God …”

“Hein?” mumbled Tom.

“Hear me out Tom … Whatever job we have to do in life, whether it is an influential position of power, a lawyer, doctor or a skilled worker using our hands to do something, like a factory worker for instance … surely our duty is to do the work properly … to the best of our ability. To give the task in hand all the attention and skill that we possess.

“As Jesus was growing up He worked with His father Joseph as a carpenter. Can you imagine Jesus making a table with a wobbly leg?”

Tom shook his head.

“Then why should we?” asked Father Ignatius, “Whatever task we have been given to do – let’s make sure it is not wobbly.”

Tom smiled silently.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do” continued Father Ignatius, “I’ll leave now and I will not return until you have permanently fixed the kitchen cabinet over that area there.



Only you will know whether those tiles have been fixed properly or not … only you will know whether the hidden tiles under the cabinet are uneven and haphazardly laid down … or not!”

“Jesus too will know …” said Tom jokingly as the priest walked up the stairs out of the basement.

“That’s true … but I promise not to ask Him!” chortled Father Ignatius.

The Gift

Father Ignatius was helping a few volunteers clearing out a storeroom deep in the basement of the church. It was dark and somewhat humid down there as well as dusty amongst the cobwebs that accumulated over the years.

The intention was to redecorate the basement, connect it to the mains electricity supply, and use the area reclaimed from years of neglect to more profitable use than just storage space for unwanted bits and pieces.

The helpers had brought with them extension cables and lit up the place a little. Slowly they took out old bits of furniture, wooden boxes full of books and other knick-knacks, church ornaments, statues and whatever else had been deposited there by previous generations.

Father Ignatius and an antique dealer friend started cataloguing the items as they were recovered from the bowels of the church in order to decide whether they were of any value and worth keeping, or whether they would be sold or got rid off.

“Rather musty in here,” commented one of the volunteers carrying a large vase.

“Creepy too … if you ask me,” complained another, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this place is haunted. Is there not an old crypt at the end of this corridor?”

“Boooo … hooo !!!!” moaned another helper eerily covering his head with an old blanket.

“Grow up George …” cried out Sonia.

“Are you having fun down there?” enquired Father Ignatius from the top of the stairs as he catalogued yet another candlestick.

“Hey Father … look what I’ve found down here,” replied Sonia coming up the stairs followed by the other helpers who needed a short break.

She carefully carried a large framed picture with the glass still intact. The wooden frame needed a little cleaning but otherwise it looked in reasonable condition. The helpers wiped the dirt from the frame and glass to reveal a brightly coloured painting of a dove flying high with rays of light or fire descending on a heart.

“Wow … this is beautiful,” said George.

“Isn’t it just …” said Sonia.

“It’s the Holy Spirit …” exclaimed Father Ignatius, “I wonder how long this has been down there.”

“Why is He depicted as a dove?” asked one of the volunteers, “and fire too … The Holy Spirit is a bit of an enigma I think.”

“I understand what you mean …” reflected Father Ignatius, “the Holy Spirit can seem an enigma to some …

“He appeared as a dove at Christ’s baptism, and as tongues of fire at Pentecost when He descended on the apostles.

“I suppose many people still misunderstand who the Holy Spirit is.

“We are taught about God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit …. He doesn’t seem to have a title or a description.

“It was St Hilary of Poitiers, a Bishop in the 3rd Century AD, who first described the Holy Spirit as ‘the gift’.

“He is the gift given to us by God after Jesus ascended into Heaven. He is the very Spirit of God Himself. His very soul come back to us on earth to dwell within us and to help us in our Christian life.

“That’s why He is sometimes referred to as the Helper, the Counselor, God’s own Being living within us.”

“God living within us …” repeated George.

“Yes …” said Father Ignatius, “can you imagine that? God. Living within us. Guiding us. Helping us. Teaching us. Advising us when to speak and when to remain silent. What to say and what to do.

“Isn’t that wonderful? Or is it too difficult to imagine or believe?

“Isn’t it a tragedy that these days many people are too willing to believe that the devil can possess an individual unwillingly and reap havoc in their lives; which of course is true.

“Yet … they find it difficult to understand that the Holy Spirit of God is willing to abide within us and lead us to an eternal better life in Heaven. And He only does so when we ask Him, when we invite Him in our hearts …

“All we have to do is believe … and ask Him.”

They reflected silently for a few seconds when eventually Sonia said “I think we should hang this picture prominently in church.”

“I agree …” replied Father Ignatius, “and it will give me an opportunity to talk about the Holy Spirit in my sermon this Sunday.”

Father Ignatius faces failure

Father Ignatius was sitting at his desk reading his morning mail when there was a knock at the door.

“Do come in,” he said in his jovial welcoming voice.

The door opened and a young man came in.

“Hello Timothy … I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you well?” asked the priest.

Timothy sat on the armchair by the window. He held his head in his hands and looked down without talking. The priest noticed that he was shaking a little … could he be crying?

“What’s wrong Timothy?” said Father Ignatius as he stood from his desk.

The young man looked up; his eyes were bright red from holding back the tears and trying to compose himself as best he could. Father Ignatius said nothing for a while and waited for Timothy to speak when ready.

“I’ve failed my driving test …” he finally blurted out, “my father will kill me … he paid a fortune for driving lessons!”

“I’ve known your father for a long time,” replied the priest calmly, “and I know for a fact he is not a killer!”

Timothy looked up and smiled a little.

“I take it you haven’t told him yet.”

“No … I ran straight here from the Test Center. I don’t know why … you can hardly do anything about it can you?”

Father Ignatius smiled at the apparent lack of confidence the youngster had in him. He turned to the cupboard behind his desk and came back holding a small camera.

“Do you mind if I take a photo of you?” he asked Timothy.

Timothy looked surprised and before he could say anything he heard the clicking sound from the camera.

“What … what did you do this for?” asked the confused youngster.

Father Ignatius put the camera on his desk and sat in a chair opposite Timothy.

“I just wanted to record this very moment in time ... for posterity do you understand ..." then after a moment's silence he continued, "Let me tell you something …

“Failure is sometimes necessary if we happen to learn from it.

“It is only a picture in time when you happen to click your camera and record it for posterity. Just as I’ve done right now … recorded your moment of failure.

“But if we were to move our camera pictures forward and see other pictures, the chances are that the individual we’ve photographed has learnt from his failure and gone on to greater success.

“When Christ hung dying on the Cross His followers saw failure.

“Here is a man whom many followed and listened to. As many as five thousand at one stage when He fed them loaves and fishes. They witnessed His many miracles and expected great things from Him. A new Ruler, a new King, someone to bring them freedom from their Roman oppressors. Yet here He is, beaten, tortured, humiliated and dying on a Cross amongst thieves.

“Failure indeed.

“Yet, a few more photos further on and we see the Resurrection, the Ascension into Heaven, the sending of the Holy Spirit, a new church born and growing from strength to strength several centuries later. We are redeemed from our sins.

“Everlasting success.”

The priest paused briefly.

“So it really depends on which picture we focus on. The one I’ve just taken of you, or the one in a few months’ time when you’re driving your car all by yourself?”

Timothy smiled.

“I’m sure your father will understand when you tell him your test result. He too was a learner driver once and he wants the best for you.”

“I’m sorry … I just panicked … I’d better get home now,” said Timothy.

“Remember Timothy” added the priest, “Failure is only what is recorded at a particular moment in time … and no more than that.

“Bear this in mind the next time a camera clicks to record your personal failures; and take courage in the knowledge that, with God’s help, you can turn your negative moments into positives for others to emulate.”

Timothy got up to leave.

“And don’t worry … there’s no film in this camera!!!” smiled Father Ignatius.

Missing you

Then He led them out of the city as far as Bethany, where He raised His hands and blessed them. As He was blessing them, He departed from them and was taken up into Heaven. Luke 24:50.

After saying this, He was taken up to Heaven as they watched Him, and a cloud hid Him from their sight. They still had their eyes fixed on the sky as He went away, when two men dressed in white suddenly stood beside them and said, “Galileans, why are you standing there looking up at the sky? This Jesus, who was taken from you into Heaven, will come back in the same way that you saw Him go to Heaven.” Acts 1:9.

A few days after the Resurrection Jesus was raised to Heaven in full sight of His disciples.

Can you imagine how they must have felt?

They’d been with Him for three years or so. Saw Him preach and heal the sick. Witnessed His arrest, death and Resurrection. And now … He was gone.

They must have missed Him very badly as they walked back to their homes. Confusion, fear and doubts must have crossed their minds several times.

He is gone … and He is missed.

Missing somebody is a sign that their presence had an influence on your life, your well-being and your happiness.

Their absence now has created a void in your life. An emptiness, and a longing to be with them once again.

We’ve all missed someone at one time or another in our lives. It is usually someone who has been kind to us.

Are we ever missed when we are no longer there? Have we done something nice to someone who will remember us and miss our presence in their lives?

More Scientific Facts

Did you know that Absolute Zero is the lowest possible temperature you can ever get to? You just cannot get any lower than Absolute Zero.

It is in fact -273.15° on the Celsius scale and −459.67° on the Fahrenheit scale. It is over 100 kilos on the bathroom scale if you have been over-eating lately.

At Absolute Zero nothing really happens. The buses will not run so it is pointless waiting for them at the bus stop. And don’t even be tempted to lick the bus stop sign whilst you're there because there may be all sort of germs on it.

Absolute Zero is also what most men get from their wives when they've said something that upsets them.

Moving up from Absolute Zero, the highest temperature that has ever been recorded is on a ladder 35 feet tall. It was when an amorous young knight in Olde England attempted to deliver a plate of spaghetti to his paramour who was trapped in a tower because the door was frozen solid and he couldn't turn the key in the lock.

Which reminds me … I once saw a ghost with an eye-patch! He said he was going through the keyhole when someone put the key in.

Hot temperatures can be very hazardous to health, especially in the kitchen whilst cooking. Most accidents in the home happen in the kitchen. Scientists believe this would not be the case if people cooked their meals in the bedroom instead. But unfortunately people rarely follow scientific instructions.

The instructions on the packet of quick cook rice said “Take sachet out of packet and stand in boiling water for 10 minutes”. I did that and burnt my feet.

I also read in my Cooking Instruction Manual that to avoid tears whilst peeling and cutting onions you should do it under water. It works, but you have to come up for air every few seconds.

An elaborate meal is a bird within a bird within a bird. Basically you stuff and cook a small bird in a bigger one, say a baby partridge inside a chicken, and the chicken inside a large goose. Do not use a grouse for this because people with a grouse are not very cheerful.

To prepare a bird within a bird is very easy. Basically you have the chicken swallow the baby partridge and then the goose swallows the chicken. Whenever the goose opens its mouth the chicken’s head comes out and says “Cockledeedledoo !!!” and as it does so the partridge looks out of the chicken’s mouth and smiles. And swallows fly all over your kitchen.

Care for another glass of whisky?

Future Foretold

The fair was in town once again with all its amusement stalls and tents pitched in the park opposite St Vincent Church. The lights were shining bright on the big wheel, the round-about and other rides, whilst the music blared for miles around.

Father Ignatius was in the church’s car park when he overheard some youngsters talking loudly:

“I’ve had my fortune told by Mystic Matilda. She looked into the glass ball and it turned all full of smoke inside.”

“What did she tell you? You’re a loser and will always be a loser …”

And somehow, just these words, a snip of an overheard conversation became the basis of Father Ignatius’ sermon on Sunday.

He approached the lectern and asked: “Did anybody here go to the fair last night?”

A few nods and yeses greeted his unusual question.

“I hear there was a fortune teller there. Did anyone go to check their fortune?”

Not many volunteers this time.

“Interesting thing telling peoples’ future … it’s all nonsense of course; but then you all know that, don’t you?” asked the priest with a smile.

“Let’s suppose for a minute that it is not nonsense at all. Let’s suppose that the fortune-teller in the park opposite can really tell your future.

“Let’s suppose Mystic Matilda, for that is her name I believe, can really foretell your future and it is really accurate every time. Every little detail of it. And unfortunately for you she predicts a bad future.

“She says that you’ll lose your job within six months. You’ll suffer a terrible painful illness. You’ll have an accident … I’m sure you know what I mean ….

“And you’re certain the fortune-teller is always accurate and these things will happen. There’s no escaping your fate. How do you feel about that?”

Total silence greeted his piercing question; so Father Ignatius pointed to the children sitting up front, “How about you … you look very intelligent to me. Can anyone tell me how you would feel if you knew your future will be bad?”

A young girl raised her hand and said, “I’d feel terrible and very frightened.”

“Yes Louise … you’re right. You’d feel terrible and very frightened indeed. You’d be terrified and most likely want to change your future at all costs.

“Now let me tell you about someone who knew His future well in advance. Probably from the age of twelve; just the same age as you sitting here up front. When He was found by His parents in the temple in Jerusalem.

“He knew then what was going to happen to Him all His life. He knew He would be betrayed by His own follower. He would be arrested. Beaten, spat upon, mocked and tortured. A crown of thorns put on His head. Made to carry His own Cross and then die a most horrible painful death Crucified between two thieves.

“He knew all that throughout His life. Being human He must have shared the same human emotions we have. He would have been very frightened and terrified just like young Louise said.

“Being human He most probably had nightmares about His whole future. How often I wonder as a young teenager did He wake up in the night having seen His future in His dreams. Can you imagine how terrible this must have been? Knowing what would happen to you and there’s no escape?

“Daily His future must have been on his mind. Just seeing the terrible suffering that He had to face must have been in itself a daily torture for Him. All that evil that is to come His way at our hands!

“But did He give up? Did He try to run away from it? Did He try to change His future?

“When He prayed in the garden before His arrest the devil did tempt Him. Jesus did ask God His Father to make it all go away … but then accepted His terrible terrible fate just for us.

“He was both God and man, and as man He suffered all that pain and that horrible death on the Cross, just for us.”

Father Ignatius stopped for a few seconds, then continued.

“And now I want to address you mothers … how would you feel if you knew for certain what would happen to your children? Your loved ones. And you were told for certain that the future would be terrible for them.

“Can you imagine for a moment how Mary felt throughout her life?

“She knew from the moment she presented the baby Jesus in the temple when Simeon told her sorrow, like a sharp sword, will break your own heart. She knew then what would happen to her Son.

“Can you imagine that? Raising a little child, hugging Him, loving Him and caring for Him. Teaching Him to take His first faltering steps, teaching Him to talk, feeding Him and looking after Him every day like a devoted loving mother does.

“And knowing every moment she does these loving things what is to happen to her precious child. Knowing every detail that is to happen to Him. How did she cope with her own Cross to carry throughout her life?

“Not only did she carry this terrible pain in her heart throughout her life, but she lived to witness it as well. For she was there, at the foot of the Cross, when her Son breathed His last breath. She held His dead body in her arms. My heart breaks just thinking about it ….

The priest stopped for a while and silently thanked our Lady for accepting her ordeal on our behalf.

“Now what are we to learn from all this?” asked Father Ignatius in a soothing voice.

“Our future is uncertain; we may be concerned, frightened even, about what is to happen to us and to our children. The financial situation in this town is in a very bad state with many losing their jobs. Prospects are none too good, and it is understandable if we sometimes feel a little apprehensive and doubtful.

“Let us learn from Jesus and Mary and take courage. God was always with them and at no time did He abandon them. Nor will He abandon us.

“When we’re feeling anxious and worried let us turn to Mary and ask her help. Let’s implore her to come to our aid. She has lived through terrible times and she’ll know exactly how we feel. And I’m certain she’ll console us and help us to go on; just like she did all those years ago.

“Let’s honour her right now by reciting the Hail Mary …”

Why did Jesus have to come to earth?

Another week, another Friday. Father Ignatius set out from St Vincent Church to St Joseph Catholic School to take on the Catechism class with the 15 years old.

It was always a challenge facing those youngsters, especially since he allowed a few minutes at the end of class for free discussion. They could ask anything they wanted and he promised to give them an honest answer – even if he didn’t have an answer, he promised them to say so.

A young pupil put up her hand and asked:

“Why did Jesus have to come to earth? Why didn’t God continue to speak through the prophets like Moses and all the others? And send His Commandments and messages that way? Did Jesus really have to come and die for us to be forgiven? Couldn't God just forgive us?”

“That’s an intelligent question Catherine,” replied the priest, “in fact it’s more than one question; all intelligent at that!”

The young pupil smiled proudly.

“I am not God,” said Father Ignatius, “and I cannot possibly explain what went through His mind when He sent us Jesus; or His motivation for Christ’s Virgin birth, sinless life, death and Resurrection. I know and believe that God decided to send us His Son Jesus to die for us. Yes, He could have just forgiven us, as you say. Being God, He could have done what He wishes, and still can. But I believe that He sent us Jesus, His Son ... and when Jesus was raised to Heaven He sent us the Holy Spirit, who is still with us today ... ”

He stopped for a while to clean his glasses which gained him some thinking time; then putting them back on he continued:

“Let me tell you a story I heard years ago …”

The whole class was now focused on his every word. He knew how to captivate their attention and he firmly believed that honesty, combined with his modern-day parables, would make them remember what he had to say and hopefully mold them into a lifetime founded on the Word of God.

“Once upon a time there was a farmer living in Canada where, as you know, the winters can be very cold and miserable.



“One such cold winter evening in the midst of a very violent snow storm, the farmer was in his home keeping warm by the fireside when he heard banging on the side of his house.

“What could it possibly be? He thought as he heard the continuous thump, thump, thump coming from outside?

“He ignored it at first, but as his dog was getting a little fractious by the sound the farmer put on his heavy overcoat and woolly hat and went outside to investigate.

“He struggled in the blinding snow and nearly slipped once or twice.



“As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness he discovered that a flock of wild geese had lost their way in the snow storm and landed in the field near his house.

“There were literally hundreds of them. Disorientated, cold and wandering everywhere.

“They were landing heavily like an airplane with failed engines, and many of them crashed against the side of the barn.

“The farmer realized that left out in the cold they would soon perish without any shelter.



“So he opened the doors of one of his barns and hoped that they would go in for the night.

“But no ... they remained out in the cold cackling and walking around in circles rather than seek shelter in the barn.

“He tried to shoo them in by walking behind them with his arms spread out ... but to no avail ... the geese ran everywhere except into the barn.



“He tried to persuade his sheepdog to herd them into the barn. But the dog had better ideas in mind. He raised his back leg to answer a call of nature then ran back into the house.”

The class of students laughed in unison.

“The farmer thought to himself ‘If only I could talk to these birds in their own language and explain to them that the barn will shelter them from the snow ... It’s their only way to salvation from this freezing cold …’

“Then an idea struck him.

“He opened another barn and let out his own geese in the yard. The yard was now full of his flock as well as these Canadian wild geese. All cackling away in the freezing snow.

“After a minute or so he shooed his own geese into the open barns again and to his relief the wild geese followed them to safety.”

The priest stopped to allow the story to sink into their young minds.

“You see … I think God had the same problem with us humans on earth.

“For years He spoke to us through the prophets as Catherine said when she asked her question. But did we listen … of course not. We continued in our sinful way.

“So God sent His only Son to us, as a human, so that we may see Him, hear Him and hopefully listen to Him speaking to us in our own language.

“Some of us have accepted Jesus as the Son of God and have heeded the Word of God, as spoken through Christ our Lord.

“But years later, even now, there are many who are not listening still.

“And that’s what we must remember at Christmas time. It isn’t just about the baby Jesus being born in a stable. It is more important than that. It is about the reality that God Himself visited us here on earth all those years ago.”