Meeting Jesus

It was a very hot summer’s day. The sun was bright and not a cloud in the sky.

Father Ignatius was in the Sacristy preparing for Sunday Mass. He asked one of the Altar servers to open all the windows in church to cool it down a little and he resolved to keep his sermon particularly short to spare his congregation, the very young and the elderly especially, from staying indoors for too long.

The previous Sunday a teenager had fainted during Mass because of the heat, and the considerate priest did not want a repeat performance this Sunday.

Father Ignatius had also devised his own make-shift idea to cool down the church a little by inventing his “Ignatius Air-Conditioning” system, as he called it.

The previous night he had asked Mrs Davenport, the housekeeper, to place four large bottles of water in the freezer. By the morning, they were frozen solid and as hard as rocks.

The ingenious priest then brought two electric fans on pedestals and stood them on either side of the Altar facing the congregation.

In front of each fan, a few inches away, he placed two bottles of solid ice and switched the fans on. The warm air whizzing past the bottles cooled down a few degrees by the time it reached the congregation.

He was well pleased with his invention that he left the Sacristy for a moment to check it was working all right, when he heard a commotion at the back of the church, in the area they called the welcoming lounge.

“That’s not very welcoming …” he thought as he walked to the back of the church to investigate.



There were two young ladies there wearing very low cut T shirts and equally minute shorts. One of the ushers, an elderly gentleman who always wore a three piece suit and tie to come to church, no matter the weather, had taken it upon himself to object to the girls attire and refused to let them enter the church.

“But it’s very hot …” pleaded one of them, “what’s wrong with what we’re wearing?”

“You’re not coming in like that …” replied the overheated usher getting redder in the face by the minute.

They all stopped talking as the priest approached them.

“Welcome ladies …” said Father Ignatius with a smile, “it’s good to see you here … you’re new here aren’t you?”

They nodded.

“It’s always nice to see new people coming to church … now what’s the problem?” he asked looking at the usher and the girls in turn.

“He doesn’t want to let us in dressed like this …” said one of the young girls.

“Hmmm…” said Father Ignatius, “if you were to meet Jesus in person, would you dress like this?”

“No … perhaps not …” they mumbled in unison.

“What makes you think He is not in church today?” continued the priest gently.

“Maybe we’ll come again next week …” said one of the girls as they left.

P.S.

Father Ignatius' sin

The following Sunday at Mass Father Ignatius was determined to make a stand. He approached the lectern confidently and said:

“As many of you know by now we had an incident here at last Sunday’s Mass. Two youngsters came up front for Communion and instead of placing the Host in their mouth when I put it in their hands, they ran away. In their hurry to escape one of them dropped the Host on the floor. The other Host was also retrieved by Father Donald who had followed the youth out in the park.

“What happened here last Sunday is a sacrilege.

“The Host as you know is not just a wafer, or a biscuit. It is the Body of Christ.

“And I allowed the Body of Christ to be desecrated by handing it out in peoples’ hands. For this grave sin of thoughtlessness I have begged Him for forgiveness.

“I am personally responsible for what happened last Sunday to the Body of Christ and I know that I will be answerable to Him personally one day for my sin."

The priest paused for a while.

“I have decided that from today, Communion will no longer be given in the hand in this church. Not as long as I am here.

“From now on, I would like you please to come forward and genuflect side by side here by the Altar rail. I will then give Communion on the tongue as we used to do previously.

“I’ve discussed this with Father Donald and he agrees and he will be following the same practice too.

“I have also discussed this matter with the Bishop who said that although the decision is ours to make in this parish; he will not be advising other parishes to change their practice.

“If anyone has a problem with this change please have a word with me afterwards or with Father Donald.”

Father Ignatius stopped for few moments to let the message sink in, then continued:

“I think you ought to know that we have identified one of the youngsters who ran away with the Host last Sunday.

“He is a Catholic boy who has in the past attended Mass here and was educated in our local Catholic school.”

The congregation gasped almost in unison. The priest waited for the noise to die down and then went on:

“I also feel responsible for that fact in itself.

“The fact that one of our own children could carry out such a deed proves that we have failed him somehow.

“It is obvious that we failed to teach him, and possibly other children, the true meaning of the Eucharist. As your priest I am guilty of that grave omission.

“I fail to understand how a child who took First Communion in this very church and was educated by us, amongst our own, did not understand the reality of Communion.

“I have discussed this at some length with Mother Superior at St Joseph School and the Headmaster at St Andrew’s. Both will take action to remedy the situation.

“But most of all I would like to plead with you parents. You are the first point of contact with your children, and rightly so. You promised at their Baptism that you will bring them up in the Faith. Please remember this and use every opportunity to teach your young ones the reality that is Christ and His Divinity.

“Teach them by example. Teach them by words. Teach them by praying together daily as a family, and by reading passages from the Bible.

“Father Donald and I are here to help you if you wish.

“The Lord God has given you the gift of children. Your gift to Him is to bring them up in the Faith.”

On the tongue

Father Ignatius considered himself a “traditionalist priest”, as he liked to call himself.

Sure enough, he accepted that changes happen in life generally as well as in the Catholic Church, and that he had to accept them; but it didn’t mean that he agreed with the changes that came his way from “earthly above” – a term he used to describe the church’s hierarchy, as opposed to “Heavenly above” when he referred to the Almighty.

One particular new development which the priest didn’t like was handing the Host during Communion to people in their hands. He preferred the traditional placing of the Host on the tongue, and for people to genuflect by the altar rail to receive Communion. But change he did, and he gave way to new procedures as an obedient priest must.

This Sunday, however, his concerns were put to the test.

As he gave out Communion to the queue of parishioners walking up the center aisle he noticed two youngsters, both aged about eighteen or so, coming towards him. He had not seen them in church before and assumed they were visitors to town. As they came to him in turn, they both held out their hands and he placed the Host in it.

A sixth sense perhaps prompted him to keep an eye on them as they moved away. And he noticed that neither placed the Host in their mouths but walked away slowly.

“Would you please stop” he said sternly, at which point they both hurried and then ran away. Unfortunately in doing so one of them dropped the Host on the floor.

The priest went to recover the fallen Host and shouted “Stop those two …” but unfortunately they escaped through a side door followed by two parishioners.

By the time they came out the parishioners found the car park totally empty … there was no one in sight.

“Which way did they go?” asked one.

“They were too quick … didn’t see them …” replied the other; and after a few moments’ conversation they went back into the church.

That would have been the end of it … but God had other plans.

At that very moment Father Donald was coming out of the parochial house and making his way to the church. He had seen the youngsters running and overheard the conversation of their pursuers. Rather than continue his way towards the church to find out what had happened he had the presence of mind to follow the youngsters at a distance.

They made their way into the park opposite the church and eventually sat down on one of the benches. Father Donald approached quietly and hid behind a tree.

“Have you got it then?” he heard one of them ask.

“Yeh … here it is” replied the second youth, “where’s yours?”

“I dropped it in church.”

“Idiot …”

“Sorry … let me see it … it looks like a piece of thin paper or card … why do they call it a Host?”

At this point Father Donald realized what had happened and knew he had to act quickly. He approached the bench from behind and grabbed both individuals simultaneously from the back of their shirts. He was really strong and knew how to take care of himself. A skill he had learnt in his native Glasgow where he fought many a street fight in his youth.

He asked them to turn round slowly and face him, kneeling on the bench whilst doing so.

Perhaps because of his broad Glaswegian accent, or perhaps because of his stature and the fact that they were taken by surprise, both youngsters obliged and turned round slowly. Neither made an attempt to escape or pull back. They knelt on the bench facing him whilst his strong hands held them tight by the back of the neck.

“Now then …” he said calmly, “which one of you has the Host?”

“I have Mister …” replied one of them.

“OK … I’ll let you on my right go. Please walk away slowly and stand by that tree.” said the priest releasing the youngster without the Host, who obediently walked way towards the tree.

“As for you young man, please place the Host in my hand,” continued Father Donald holding out his hand and retrieving the stolen Host.

After releasing the second teenager the priest stood there and asked them “Do you realize the seriousness of what you have done?”

They shook their heads “No …” said one of them.

It was certainly not the time for a discussion on Christianity or the reality that is the Eucharist. The priest had to say something to end this encounter.

“In the name of God whom you do not know I forgive you and so does He. I pray for you that you may yet get to know Him.”

He turned back towards the church and never saw the two of them again.

NOTE: Fr Ignatius and Fr Donald are characters from the book "Visions" by the same author. See details on the right of this Blog.

Are you invited at Jesus' wedding?

In Matthew Chapter 22:1-14 Jesus tells a parable about a king preparing a wedding feast for his son. He invites many guests who do not turn up, so eventually, he invites all the people his servants can find in the streets until the wedding hall is full of guests.

In this story, the King is God. And His Son getting married is Jesus; marrying His Church here on earth - this means everyone, you and I included.

We are all invited to God's Kingdom, but many don't answer the call.

At the end of this parable there's an intriguing bit. The king enters the hall and sees a man not wearing wedding clothes. He is angry with him and gets him tied up and thrown out into the street.

Now this seems rather harsh treatment for someone not wearing the right clothes. Until we stop and understand Jewish tradition.

Jesus was talking to the Jews who understood very well that there are special clothes to wear at weddings. Almost every family had such special clothes in case they were invited to a wedding; even the poor would either have such clothes or borrow some. No one would dare go to a wedding without special clothes. Even more important, traditionaly the host of the wedding also provided special garments for those who did not have any, so they can borrow them for the occasion. So it was more offensive to the king for this guest to wear no garment.

This guest in the parable just did not bother; he showed disrespect to the king and his son; and was thus thrown out.

But how about us? What are our special clothes for our entry into God's Kingdom in Heaven?

Our wedding clothes are our good deeds here on earth. Whatever we do for anyone in need, however small, constitutes our wedding clothes.

It is just not enough to spend a lifetime on our knees praying, or going to church, if our deeds are far from what is expected of us as followers of Christ.

Jesus said, "Not everyone who calls me Lord will enter the Kingdom of God, but only those who do what my Father wants them to do". Matthew 7:21.

In other words ... action not words.

Faith

Father Ignatius looked out of the window and heard the electrically-motorized milk van driving down the hill as it slowly approached the Parish House. The distinctive whirring of the battery operated motor, and the clinking of the glass milk bottles rattling against each other in their crates as the vehicle started and stopped every few yards, enhanced the musical dawn chorus as the sun woke up gently from its sleep.

Clink … clink … clink … sang the milk bottles as the birds chirped merrily amongst the trees greeting a new day. Clackety clack ... clackety clack ... clackety clack ... responded an old steam train in the distance as it danced past slowly on the metal rails.

The priest came down the stairs from his office and opened the front door just as Len, the milkman, put down two pints of milk on the doorstep and collected the empty bottles left there the previous night by Mrs Davenport, the housekeeper.

“Hello Len …” he said, “please do come in … I have a list somewhere of other items which Mrs Davenport asked for. I believe she wants an extra pint of milk, some cream, butter and cheese. Come sit in the kitchen whilst I find her list!”

The milkman sat down by the warm stove in the kitchen whilst the priest searched for the list prepared by his housekeeper.

“That’s an odd poster you have here …” said the milkman pointing at the wall, “To have Faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see … What does that mean exactly?”

“Well … it means what it says I suppose. To have Faith is to be sure that things will turn out exactly as you hope they will. To believe in something without seeing it …” replied Father Ignatius, “It’s from the Bible, Hebrews Chapter 11.”

“Yeh … I guessed that much. It’s still odd though” mumbled the milkman.

“What’s odd about it?”

“Well …” Len hesitated a little, “I’m not a religious man Father, a bit above my head all this religious stuff … but it is a little difficult to believe in something blind like … without proof … without seeing it with your eyes!”

“I agree … it is more than a little difficult. Very difficult I would say. That’s why they call it Faith." replied Father Ignatius handing Len the list.

“I believe in God … I haven’t seen Him of course … but I believe He exists. And in more ways than one I have proved it to myself, or He helped in proving it to me, that He exists all right.

“Now I can never prove His existence to you …”

“I would agree with that,” laughed Len.

“I could not prove it to you …” continued the priest gently, “but God could prove His existence to you … if only you’d be willing to take the first step … to dare to believe without any proof.”

“I can’t see myself doing that Father!” said Len reading the list prepared by Mrs Davenport.

“God asks us to trust Him … and He’ll do the rest” said Father Ignatius, “let me tell you a story … have you got a few minutes?”

The milkman nodded.

“There once was a very famous tight-rope walker. You know the kind …

“He’d walked across many rivers and ravines and canyons on a rope stretched between two points; and every time he attracted great crowds who came to see him. He was always successful, of course, and kept his balance despite the weather, the high winds and other difficulties which made his act both dangerous and exciting.

“And over the years he became very rich just by walking on a rope!

“One day he decided to retire. And for his last performance he decided to cross the Niagara Falls on a tight rope.

“Well … on the day in question the whole world and his uncle was there to witness the event.”

The milkman smiled.

“Before performing his walk the tight-rope walker picked up the microphone and thanked his audience for their support over the years.

“He then asked them … ‘Do you think I’ll be successful crossing the Niagara Falls?’

“The audience cheered enthusiastically and said ‘Yes …’ in unison. After all they’d witnessed his many walks over the years.

“So the tight-rope walker continued, ‘this time however it will be a bit different … I’ll walk across on this rope but I will also push a wheelbarrow in front of me … do you think I’ll be able to do this successfully across to the other side?’

“The audience shouted again ‘Yes …’ with one voice.

“OK, said the man … ‘I need a volunteer to sit in the wheelbarrow … who will come across with me?’

“Not surprisingly … nobody volunteered … the crowd remained silent. They had seen him perform his walks many times over the years … but not one of them had the courage to go across with him.”

The milkman looked at Father Ignatius rather puzzled.

“You see Len,” continued the priest, “they did not have Faith in him, even though they had seen him walk on a rope many times.

“And that’s what God asks of us … to have Faith, even without seeing for ourselves.

“To dare to trust Him without any proof. To dare to sit in the wheelbarrow and be carried by Him.

“A little difficult you think? I say it is … it is very difficult to trust and to believe without any proof whatsoever.

“It’s very difficult indeed to have Faith … but the rewards are really worth it!

“So it’s up to you … whether you want to sit in God’s wheelbarrow or not.”

As Len went to his milk van to fetch the items on Mrs Davenport’s list, Father Ignatius brought a small booklet of St Matthew’s Gospel from his office.

“Here Len …” said the priest, “have a read of this … I hope it sets you thinking. And when you finish it … I have another booklet for you if you wish!”

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know

Old Mrs Robinson felt a little faint in church today and passed out for a minute or so. She was helped to the sacristy where she sat down surrounded by concerned parishioners.

“I’ll get her a glass of water” said one.

“No … give her brandy!” said Tom.

“Perhaps a warm cup of tea with plenty of sugar” suggested someone else.

“I think she should have a brandy” repeated Tom.

“Maybe we should call for an ambulance” interrupted another parishioner.

“A brandy will sort her out” insisted Tom.

“Perhaps she should be lying down for a bit of a rest.” someone suggested.

“I have some smelling salts” said another.

“Brandy is better” said Tom.

“Will you all shut up and listen to Tom” said Mrs Robinson in exasperation.

The world is full of people crying out in need of something or other. And there’s always plenty of philosophers, scientists, economists, and experts on all sort of things expounding their theories and advising everyone on what should be done.

What they don’t realize is that what the world really needs is a bit more love.

“Love one another as I have loved you.” (John 13:34)

Forgotten in Purgatory

Father Ignatius was in the back garden pruning the rose bushes whilst one of his parishioners was cleaning the pond and checking that the goldfish were in good health.

It was more to start a conversation than anything else when the parishioner asked: “Father … is it a sin to fear death?”

“That’s a strange question …” replied the priest, “what brought that on?”

“Well … it’s not so much death that I’m concerned about,” said the man, hesitating a little, “it’s what comes afterwards.”

“You’re concerned about Heaven?”

“No Father …” continued the man standing up from the pond and drying his hands on an old towel, “Purgatory … that’s the real problem.

“The Church tells us that our souls will go to Purgatory until they’re made clean of all sins.”

“Yes … that’s right …” said Father Ignatius stopping what he was doing for a moment.

“The way I see it …” said the man placing the old towel on one side, “we all have some sin or other on our conscience at any one time. So whenever we die not one of us will escape Purgatory. No matter how much I try … the chances are that I’ll die having committed some sin or other … and I’ll spend time in Purgatory.

“I don’t even know how long I’ll be there … it could be years … and I don’t like it.

“I’m not even sure what’s in Purgatory … is there a fire like in hell … only not as hot?”

Father Ignatius laughed.

“What’s so funny Father? What is in Purgatory anyway? It’s never quite explained in Catholic teaching; all I remember from my Catechism days is that it’s a place where we’re spiritually cleansed … sounds more like a car-wash to me!”

Father Ignatius smiled again. He stopped pruning the roses and sat down on a nearby chair.

“Jesus certainly told us about Heaven and hell … and He certainly described hell as a fiery place … but He never mentioned Purgatory,” said the priest cautiously.

“So it’s a Catholic invention then?” retorted the parishioner, “because I know that other Christian churches don’t teach about Purgatory or believe in it.”

Father Ignatius took off his glasses and cleaned imaginary specks of dust to gain some thinking time.

“You accept, do you not …” he asked eventually, “that after you’ve confessed your sins you should do a penance?”

“Yes … sure.”

“Well …” continued the priest, “those who die with sins on their soul, venial sins that is … have to go to Purgatory as a penance until they are spiritually cleansed. That’s what the Church teaches …

“The Catholic Church bases its teaching from Scripture. In Revelation Chapter 21 Verse 27 it says ‘Nothing unclean shall enter Heaven.’ So, strictly speaking, if we die with venial sins on our conscience we’re not spiritually cleaned … and that’s why we go to Purgatory.

“The belief in the existence of Purgatory goes back to the early Christians; and other Christian denominations, though not all, do also believe in such a place where souls go before they are ready to enter Heaven.

“As you know … we Catholics also believe that if we pray for the souls in Purgatory, or offer Mass for them, it shortens their stay there …”

“That’s exactly what I’m scared about Father …” interrupted the man somewhat agitated, “I have no family whatsoever … when I’m dead and gone I’ll be forgotten there in Purgatory for years on end … it’s just not fair!

“Having accepted that I’ll die with venial sins I’ll then spend time in Purgatory with no one praying for me or offering Mass for me … I just can’t escape the fact that I’ll end up in Purgatory … totally forgotten.”

Father Ignatius sympathized with the man and his fear of the after-life and what was in store for him there. He had to tread a thin line indeed between the teachings of his Church and the realities of life as he faced them right here and right now.

One of his parishioners believed so much in Catholic doctrine that it frightened him to death, almost literally so.

“Hey … don’t be scared …” he said gently, “let’s consider this a bit more …

“As I’ve explained, the belief in Purgatory and the need to purify our souls before we enter Heaven goes back to the early Church.

“Over the years … you can rest assured that many wise heads have pondered and argued about this time and again. And it is still a matter of contention between various denominations today … As you rightly say, some Christian denominations don’t believe in the existence of Purgatory as we Catholics do.

“Now … you wouldn’t expect me as a Catholic priest to tell you that Purgatory doesn’t exist … it’s all a Catholic invention … as you put it … would you?”

The man shook his head. “No Father!”

“Good … as a priest I can tell you what the Church teaches about Purgatory.

“But I can also tell you this … and I believe it because Jesus taught us so …” continued Father Ignatius gently.

“God our Creator loves us very much … so much so that He sent Jesus to die for us …

“Those who love God and believe in Jesus as His Son will certainly go to Heaven … as Jesus promised us so many times …

“God is a loving, forgiving Father whose wish is for us to be united with Him in Heaven.

“I don’t believe that He is so callous and uncaring that He’ll leave you forgotten in Purgatory for years on end … He loves you too much to forget about you.

“He knows your soul as well as He knows mine and everyone else’s. When we die He knows how pure we are; and He’ll decide when and how we will go to meet Him in Heaven.

“If there is such a place as Purgatory, or a means through which we have to be cleansed spiritually before we enter Heaven, God will make sure that this happens to us as is fitting and appropriate to our individual circumstances.

“So don’t fret so much about going to Purgatory but concentrate more on being at Peace with God. Trust Him to do the right thing.

“By all means, pray for those who died before you … put in a good word for them with our Lord …

“But most of all Trust Him to guide you and welcome you to Heaven rather than worry about how you’ll get there.”

The man nodded silently and continued cleaning the pond. Meanwhile, Father Ignatius prayed silently that the Church’s teachings serve to up-lift those put in its care rather than frighten them as in this case.

Theodore Luxton-Joyce speaks his mind

Father Ignatius and Father Donald welcomed a visiting Franciscan priest, Father Randolph, to the Parish for the weekend to lead the Marriage Renewal Seminar.

The Seminar was held on the grounds of the Parish Gardens providing plenty of time for the participants to spend time together re-assessing their married life, in preparation for a Renewal of Vows Ceremony to be held after Mass on Saturday evening.

The two Parish priests were pleased that they managed to get twenty married couples to attend the weekend event and looked forward to a successful Seminar for all involved.

The same cannot be said however for Theodore Luxton-Joyce, the eccentric friend of Father Ignatius and very generous benefactor of St Vincent Church.

Theodore preferred to be well away from “organized love-ins”, as he called the Seminar and would not have attended for one moment had he the choice. But his lovely wife, Rose, convinced him otherwise and he, being an old romantic, albeit he hid it well, acquiesced to her request.

After lunch on Saturday the group met at the Church Hall and was addressed by Father Randolph.

He spoke about the necessity of working at a marriage to make it successful, and explained how very often couples tend to drift apart because of the pressures of modern living and having to work hard just to keep body and soul together. He went on to stress the importance of “being aware of the other person in your life”, the importance of “listening” to their feelings, and “showing love” by saying something nice every now and then, by holding hands, giving a hug every so often and not taking one’s spouse for granted.

“Love doesn’t end after the honeymoon” declared Father Randolph, “it’s a precious flower which needs nurturing and feeding every day if it is to flourish for a lifetime!”

At this point Father Randolph noted Theodore Luxton-Joyce raising his eyebrows and looking in the distance out of the window, no doubt wishing he was anywhere else but here.

“What do you think Theodore?” asked the visiting priest, “Do you think it’s important to tell your wife, Rose, that you love her?”

“Every day?” asked Theodore.

The Group laughed and Fathers Ignatius and Donald, sitting at the top table, looked at each other silently.

“Yes … every day … why not?” continued the Franciscan priest after the laughter died down.

“I don’t see the point …” replied Theodore, “Rose knows that I love her very much … (then looking at his wife) … you do know that don’t you?

“What’s the point of all this adolescent childish talk … it goes without saying that I love her … what?

“I wouldn’t have given up a weekend of good fishing and come here, if I didn’t love her … don’t you think old boy?”

The Group laughed again.

“Fifteen – love …” Father Donald whispered quietly to Father Ignatius.

But Father Randolph was not to be beaten so easily.

“No … it does not go without saying …” he responded quietly, “it is important to tell your wife, or husband, that you love them. That they are not taken for granted. It is important to say it … and say it often. It’s important to be nice and to compliment one’s spouse every now and then.

“Very often I’ve seen couples drift apart yet deep down they do really love each other. They just don’t bother, or don’t have time, to say it. With time, they forget what first attracted them to each other. And every time we forget … love dies a little!

“Let me challenge you Theodore if I may …”

“Fifteen all …” Father Donald whispered softly under his breath. “A good return from the visiting priest!” Father Ignatius sat quietly and said nothing.

“I want you to answer quickly without thinking,” Father Randolph challenged Theodore. “Are you ready? Without thinking … what first attracted you to your wife Rose?”

“She makes a decent steak and kidney pie … what?” declared Theodore.

The Group broke down into hysterics.

“Thirty – fifteen to your eccentric friend!” Father Donald said to his colleague Father Ignatius.

Father Randolph was astute enough to continue with his talk rather than get into a pointless debate with Theodore. Minutes later he asked the Group whether anyone had personal knowledge or experience of marriages breaking down after a long period together. He called them “mature divorces”.

Theodore raised his hand.

“I bet you regret inviting him …” Father Donald whispered to Father Ignatius.

“Years ago … when I was in the military, one of my people got divorced after twenty years of marriage …” said Theodore.

“I asked him why … and he said his wife was violent what? Apparently she threw things at him in an argument … Anything … Cups … saucers … cutlery … crockery … anything that came to hand.

“Turns out she threw things at him throughout the marriage … twenty years of it.

“I asked him why he took so long to decide to leave her.

“He said her aim was getting better … what?”

The Group burst into laughter to the embarrassment of Rose, whilst Father Randolph tactfully decided to call a short tea break.

“Game … set … and match!” declared Father Donald as he got up from his seat.

The rest of the weekend proceeded without further difficulties for Father Randolph, albeit Theodore was the most popular member of the Group.

As they drove back home he asked his wife, “You don’t think it necessary to say ‘I love you’ every day … do you?”

“It’s nice to hear it every now and then…” she said, “It’s reassuring you know. Women like reassurance!”

“Tell you what old girl …” he replied, “I’ll write it down big on a piece of paper. You can read it as often as you want when you need reassurance … what?” he chortled heartily.

She smiled; knowing full well that he was the world’s biggest romantic, yet his up-bringing did not allow him to show it.

More stories about Theodore Luxton-Joyce in the book of the same name. Download yours FREE - check the tab at the top left of this Blog.

The graceful lady

For the last three Sundays Father Ignatius noticed a new member of his congregation attending Mass and always sitting in the same place on the left of the Altar.

She was an elegantly dressed lady in her mid to late fifties. She took part in silent prayer throughout Mass and never came forward for Communion. At the end of Mass she got out of church without speaking with anyone and drove away in a nice new car. Not the sort of car you see often in St Vincent Church whose parishioners are mostly either out of work or earning a pittance in a job in the poorest town in the country.

Father Ignatius liked to wait in the car park after Mass and greet his parishioners as they came out of church. Yet he never managed to speak to this mysterious lady who always left just before the final hymn ended, and so avoided contact with him or any other parishioner.

This week however the repetitive saga would have a different outturn because Father Donald was offering Mass; so our resourceful priest decided to wait in the car park a few minutes before Mass ended and so have the opportunity to greet his mysterious new visitor.

As the elegant woman came out of church early Father Ignatius greeted her with a smile.

“Hello, I’m Father Ignatius … I don’t think we’ve met …” he said.

“Yes Father … how remiss of me …” she replied in a refined English accent, “perhaps we can meet somewhere and I’ll introduce myself …”

Father Ignatius was taken aback. He certainly did not expect such a response.

“Ehm … we can go in the Parish House” he mumbled.

“Excellent … lead on and I’ll follow” she smiled.

Minutes later they were both in the large lounge room downstairs in the Parish House. She sat on the armchair near the warm fireplace; the very chair the priest often used when watching TV or listening to his beloved classical music. He sat on the settee opposite her.

“I haven’t been attending your church for long, “she started.

“You’re very welcome here …” he encouraged her.

“The truth is … I haven’t been to church for almost thirty years,” she continued, “ but my husband died a month ago and I thought I’d come back …”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear it …” the priest sympathized.

“Sorry that I’ve come back to church or that my husband died?” she asked teasingly, and before the priest had time to reply she smiled and went on “oh … don’t worry Father, actually I’m glad he’s dead … I’ve cursed him often enough …”

Father Ignatius knew to say nothing and let her continue.

“We married some thirty two years ago to be precise and he left me for another woman after two years of marriage. We had a young son aged one year at the time. My husband moved to another part of the country to start a new life with his new lover and I haven’t seen him since.

“He provided generously for the up-bringing of our son. He was fairly wealthy and made arrangements for moneys to be regularly credited to my bank, yet he never made contact nor visited our son since the day he left.

“My son is grown-up now and married with two children of his own. And my husband and I never divorced.

“He went to live with his girl friend, and had two other children with her although he never married her. And last month he died in a car accident.

“I heard from his solicitors that he left money for our son and for me.

“And I cursed him once again … I never forgave him for the pain he’s caused me and that’s why I’ve not been to church ever since the day our marriage broke down!”

“Well, as I said, you’re very welcome here …” Father Ignatius replied encouragingly once again.

“I know it’s wrong not to forgive Father …” she continued as calmly as before, “but I just can’t. And that’s why I haven’t been to church for a long while.

“I don’t even know why I’m back in church now … for the past three weeks at least. Perhaps I’m hoping that God will give me a ‘get out of jail free’ card,” she smiled. “You know what I mean … He’d forgive my hatred for my husband yet let me continue to hate him.”

“I doesn’t work like that …” Father Ignatius said gently.

“Yes I know Father. You’d have thought that after all these years I would have moved on … but I haven’t …” she continued lighting a cigarette.

“That’s because the hurt caused to you all those years ago has not healed. For various reasons the pain has not been given time to subside and fade away. Memories perhaps remained too vividly alive and so fuelled your anger and made the pain worse,” he explained as quietly and gently as before.

“Anyway … that’s my story,” she smiled stubbing out her just lit cigarette in the ashtray, “I may or may not continue to come to church … but it’s been nice meeting you Father. You’re a very gentle and caring person, and I appreciate your kindness.”

“Let me ask you something …” Father Ignatius asked just as she was about to get up, “if your husband was alive today, and he was here right now, full of genuine remorse for the hurt he has caused you all these years. If he asked you to forgive him, knowing full well that there’s nothing he can do to turn back the clock and put things right. If he genuinely and truly asked you for forgiveness; would you find it in your heart to forgive him?”

“What an interesting question …” she replied, “yes … on reflection I think I would forgive him.”

“It’s too late for him to ask your forgiveness,” said the priest, “but it’s not too late for you to forgive him.

“For your own peace of mind … and for your own sake and salvation, you must forgive him once and for all. The memories and hurt may well linger on, but with true forgiveness will come healing and in time reconciliation with Our Lord.”

“I’ll try …” she said showing emotion for the first time.

“That’s all God is asking of you. And I’ll be here to help you if you need me …” he replied.

And that’s how a wounded soul finally managed to find peace and healing. She continued to attend Mass on Sundays and had several discussions with Father Ignatius and Father Donald over a period of time to make her way back to God.

Yesterday, she went to Confession and had Communion for the first time in over thirty years.

Trinity? What Trinity?

For centuries people have been trying to comprehend the mystery of the Holy Trinity as if it is a puzzle which we are meant to resolve and when we do we get a prize.

God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit ... (no title) ... three in one. What is that supposed to mean?

We accept (those of us who believe) that God exists and is up there somewhere, in Heaven , above the clouds or wherever. He has always existed and has created us as well as everything else in the Universe and beyond. OK ... we can understand and believe that.

Then there is Jesus. Born as a baby of a Virgin by the power of the Holy Spirit, and came to earth as a human. OK ... so He is the Son of God.

But wait a minute ... in the Credo it says I believe "in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, and born of the Father before all ages. God of God, light of light, true God of true God. Begotten not made, consubstantial to the Father, by whom all things were made."

Jesus was begotten, not made by God just like He made us and everything else. "Before all ages" - this means that Jesus has always existed. He did not just begin to exist when He was born on earth. When He was born on earth is when He appeared to us in human form. But before that, He has always existed with God, because He is God.

Consubstantial to the Father. From Latin consubstantialem, of one essence or substance. This word was used by the Council of Nicaea (325) when they wrote the Credo to express the Divinity of Christ. The Trinity is not a hierarchy. It isn't God at the top, then Jesus, and then the Holy Spirit. All three are equal and one; and have always been so.

Confusing? I suppose it is. But there's more.

We are then told about the Holy Spirit. He is the Spirit of God - His soul perhaps. He doesn't have a title as such. God is God, the Creator, Our Father in Heaven. Jesus is His only Son, our Saviour. But the Holy Spirit ... no title!

It was St Hilary of Poitiers, a Bishop in the 3^rd 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.

And that is the Holy Trinity which we believe in and perhaps don't understand.

But let's be honest, there are many men in this world who do not understand their wives; so what hope have we really got of understanding the Holy Trinity?

When we get to meet St Peter we will not sit an exam to check how much we have learnt and what we understand.

God will instead look into our hearts ... our Faith ... and our actions.

God does not ask us to understand Him ... He asks us to trust Him and love Him.

Secrets to a Happy Marriage

I was reading a book the other day about the secrets to a successful, long-lasting and happy marriage.

It’s amazing that after centuries of people coming together in matrimony there are still, apparently, secrets that we do not know about on how to make our marriages happy and successful.

I read with some trepidation and curiosity in order to discover what else I have to learn on the subject.

It seems that the first steps in choosing a partner for life are the most important ones. Marriage is not to be entered into too lightly and one must be careful with whom we pledge to spend the rest of our lives – come sunshine, rain or snow. It is imperative at the outset to decide who will clear the path when the snow is feet deep and blocking your way out.

Love, mutual respect, patience and understanding are obviously very important in a marriage. But just as essential is the fact that one of the spouses should be slightly deaf – preferably the husband.

The choice of spouse is vital not only for reasons of compatibility, shared interests, hopes, values and aspirations. It seems that the occupation and profession of one’s partner plays a major role in the longevity and success of the union.

Statistics prove beyond doubt that archaeologists make the best marriage partners. The older you get the more interested they are in you.

It is of course inevitable that in any marriage arguments will occur sometimes out of the blue and on the most absurd and un-important subjects. The trick is not so much on how to win an argument; if this was at all possible, but to avoid getting into one in the first place.

It’s not a question of capitulating and giving way in the first instance, but choosing which argument is important enough to defend as a matter of principle and which is not worth losing privileges for.

The question of principles is worth dwelling on for a moment or two. Don’t just have one unbreakable principle which you will uphold at the cost of your marriage, happiness, and future livelihood. Be generous. Have plenty of principles; and if one doesn’t work out for you choose another one. No one who is anyone has ever succeeded by having just one principle.

The book also has a chapter about mutual interests and doing things together as a couple which both marriage partners can enjoy.

Now, doing heavy work together like changing the engine oil in the car, tuning the engine, changing the tires and other mechanical tasks may be ideal for certain couples; but personally I’d rather sit back and admire her handiwork and praise her every now and then. Besides, I hate it when the engine oil and dirt gets under my fingernails. It’s a devil of a job to clean when I’m at the manicurist.

In a chapter specifically for men, the book states that women like to be re-assured frequently that they are loved and cherished. Frequently the words “I love you” are not heard as often after the honeymoon, or are used as a pretext to wanting something, like watching the football on TV.

The book suggests that the husband writes down the words “I love you” on a piece of paper which the wife can refer to as often as needed in future. Laminating the piece of paper will ensure its durability, especially if it is the size of a credit card so it can be easily carried in one’s purse or handbag. Drawing a heart, or a flower, (before laminating), will also ensure a successful purpose.

So there you have it … a few secrets to a long, happy and successful marriage. Now where’s my dinner?

Rescue Drive

For a few days Father Ignatius had been thinking over his conversation with Father Donald about the dream he had.

In the dream, St Peter asked Father Ignatius directly, ‘Have you done a good job of looking after Our Lord’s lambs and sheep?’

“What a challenge!” thought Father Ignatius, “St Peter himself asking me if I was a good priest!”

Jack lived a few yards down the road from St Vincent Church, just the other side of the Convent.

One Friday evening he was waiting outside the Fish and Chips Shop just opposite the church when Father Ignatius joined the queue.

“How are you keeping Jack?” he asked, “you look really miserable right now … just like a mile of bad road, I should say!”

“Hello Father …” mumbled Jack under his breath, “it’s a long story!”

“You’d better tell me about it … let’s move away from this queue …”

The two men left the queue and walked a few paces away from the shop.

“It’s this friend of mine …” Jack said hesitantly, “he’s over seventy years old, lives in Brintown, and he’s not too well. I think he’s dying. I spoke to the lady friend he lives with and she said the doctor is not holding much hope. I’ll go and see him tomorrow as I’m not working this weekend … I hope I get there in time …”

“I’ll pray for him Jack. I notice you said lady friend … is he not married then?”

“Oh … that’s another long story Father.” said Jack, “Many years ago, when he was thirty or so, he met this lady and fell in love with her. She was divorced and his priest would not marry them. In fact he argued the matter with the priest and the priest excommunicated him.

“I think he probably excommunicated her as well … I don’t know.

“Anyway, they’ve lived together ever since … that’s about forty years. I don’t know if they ever got married in the Civil Court.

“But the man kept faithful to the ban imposed on him. He didn’t move to another church and take Communion there, even though they moved town several times. In fact I believe he never set foot in another church ever since that day!”

“We’d better go and see them then …” said the priest.

“What now … it’s five o’clock. It will take us two hours to get to Brintown!”

“The sooner we start the better,” replied Father Ignatius, “you go to my office and phone them from there. I’ll get the car ready!”

Moments later Father Ignatius was driving up the highway as fast as the speed limit allowed.

They arrived just after 7:30 that evening. Father Ignatius went to see the old man in his bedroom whilst Jack stayed with the old lady in the front room.

They could hear talk, and sometimes laughter from the bedroom. The priest stayed there for a while. He heard the old man’s Confession and gave him Holy Communion. Then they chatted away about the past … the old man had spent some time in Italy, not far from where Father Ignatius studied for the priesthood, so they talked about Italy and all the places they visited whilst there.

Eventually the priest came out and asked Jack to go and stay with the old man.

He heard the old lady’s Confession and gave her Holy Communion.

Father Ignatius and Jack set off back home at about 10:45 that evening. In the car, on the way to St Vincent, Jack said, “Thank you Father … being with you is like being with Jesus!”

“Don’t ever say that,” replied the priest, “no one can possibly be like Jesus!”

The old man died three days later.

The old lady also died a few months after that.

(Based on a true story).

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?

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?

Much Ado About Nothing

I have an Australian friend called Mel who told me once “We humans always over-complicate things. Life is made for Fosters and surfing! Simple as that.”

I agreed with the former sentiment as I sipped my amber nectar but I doubt you’ll ever find me out at sea standing on an old wooden board that came from a kitchen door.

I asked him on one occasion whether he was named after the Australian city of Melbourne.

“Nah mate,” he replied, “… Sydney. My name is Sydney. But there was another fella in my class at school named Sydney. There was also one called Ade … we called him Adelaide for short. Then they called me Mel.”

“After the city?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah … just Mel. Pure and simple. Just Mel.”

It makes sense I suppose; which by some circuitous route brings us to Shakespeare.

I had to attend a Shakespeare recital the other evening. Not a play as such, but some tedious professor of sorts standing on a stage and spouting for ages about the old bard. The audience consisted mainly of female Shakespeare enthusiasts accompanied by their bored husbands who had been dragged there under duress or some other enticement – like watching the football on TV!

Anyway, this tedious man went on explaining how and why Shakespeare started writing and became famous.

Personally, I don’t hold with the theory that Shakespeare wrote all these plays and sonnets. I think it was Francis Bacon. And I base my theory on the fact that I fancied a bacon sandwich at the time instead of listening to this tedious professor.

He went on to explain what Shakespeare meant when he said certain things in his plays, and what do various characters represent.

I mean … what does it matter? Why not just enjoy the plays instead of guessing what the author had in mind when he wrote it? He was probably just writing to earn a living, very much as authors, playwrights and film-makers do these days.

At one point the tedious professor asked his audience why Cleopatra in the play of that name put an asp to her bosoms.

I leant sideways and whispered “I didn’t know she put a donkey to her breast. Why did she do this?”

I got one of those stares that meant “I’ll sort you out later!”

The evening went on thus without even a break for a pint or three. I tried my best not to nod off and was rewarded at the end with tea and biscuits.

What a let down … not a Fosters in sight!

Which brings me back again to Mel. He was right … we humans tend to over-complicate things instead of making life pure and simple.

“Love one another. As I have loved you.” John 13:34

Stabbed Angel

Being a priest is not really a sedentary job where you work just one day a week and you have plenty of time for leisure and watching TV. Far from it. Sometimes you come face to face with real danger as Father Ignatius can testify.

It was a wet autumn evening with leaves covering the ground, and when they start rotting away and become slimy and slippery; a cold autumn evening with a freezing wind that blows right through you; the kind of evening when you’d much rather be at home by the fireside with a hot cup of chocolate in your hands. Yes ... not the sort of evening to be out and about.

You guessed it ... the phone rang and Father Ignatius was called out as a matter of urgency.

One of his elderly parishioners was very ill and not expected to see the night through. Father Ignatius jumped in his car and drove to one of the less salubrious parts of town where Mrs Bartholomew lived alone with a cat as a pet. As he arrived at her house in a darkly lit street the doctor was just leaving; and a kind neighbour had agreed to stay with her until Mrs Bartholomew’s son and daughter-in-law arrived from another town not so far away.

Father Ignatius stayed with the elderly lady to comfort her and to pray with her until her family arrived at about half-past eleven at night.

As he left the house he said yet another silent prayer for her and made his way, in the drizzling rain, towards his car. He was just a few feet away from the vehicle when suddenly, out of the dark, a young man jumped out from an alleyway brandishing a big knife.

The priest was startled and was fortunate enough to recover his balance on the slippery ground by leaning back on his car.

The young man, hardly visible in the semi-darkness, pointed the knife at Father Ignatius and said, “your wallet mister … and be quick about it …”

The priest could see the long blade shining in the little light that was available from a nearby shop window. Before he could say or do anything the young man lunged forward with the knife aimed at the priest’s chest. Father Ignatius moved sideways as a reflex and felt the knife slide down his side. Somehow, it got caught in his coat pocket pulling forward the youth who slipped badly hitting his head against the car door as he fell to the ground.

The youngster screamed in agony as the blade cut into him.

Father Ignatius stooped down to help him. He had the presence of mind to throw the knife a distance away and told the lad to stay still whilst he fetched some help from the “24/7” shop.

Moments later both an ambulance and the police were on the scene and the youth was taken away.

The following day Father Ignatius called at the police station as advised by the officers. He learnt that the youngster, only 15 years old, was un-employed, and living rough. This was hardly unusual in this desolate town where commerce and industry had long given up hope and departed.

He was asked to make a statement and to help press charges against his would-be assailant, but Father Ignatius had other things in mind. He knew the chief-of-police and somehow managed to get the youngster put in his care without pressing charges for the attempted mugging. It was after all a first-time offence and the police had no previous records of the lad. Three weeks later the priest found him a job with a local farmer.

But the story does not end there.

On the night of the attack Father Ignatius returned home very late into the night. Father Donald and Mrs Davenport the housekeeper were up and worried out of their minds. They did not know where the priest had been.

After getting cleaned up and nursing a nice cup of chocolate in his hands he re-told them that night’s events. Father Donald insisted that in future he’d be the one to go out late at night if necessary. In his early thirties, and half of Ignatius’ age, he thought he should be the one out there, leaving “the old man” at home.

Father Ignatius smiled and said nothing. Then after a pause he confided:

“Tonight, I’ve learnt two things I never realised before. When the situation first started and I thought I was about to die, I discovered that, in reality, I was not afraid of death. We all claim as Christians not to be afraid of death; and when it nearly happened to me, I found out I really wasn't scared at all. I seemed ready for it, but I was more concerned as to whether it would be painful.

“Secondly, I think my Guardian Angel helped me tonight. When the knife came at me at speed, I saw a white shape come between me and the young boy. It was all over in a flash. One second I saw the shape and the next the boy was on the ground in agonizing pain. I'm certain that knife was stopped into going in my chest.”

Unfortunately, in a town where nothing much of interest happens, the story of the attack found its way in the newspapers.

For days afterwards, every time Father Ignatius went to St Andrew’s Catholic School the young boys made karate movements with their hands when they saw him, and called him Father Kung-Fu.