In continuation…

Then there was the priest who coaxed me to press trembling fingers over the keyboard in order to rally a congregation to song. He even allowed me access – very limited talent notwithstanding – to the Cathedral’s precious pipe organ. If you have felt the groundswell of music under vaulted beams, you will understand the experience. Sounds of Panis Angelicus and Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring still recall to mind amateurish attempts at raising my ‘voice’ to the Lord. Joy overflowed.

Another priest introduced me to the writing, editing and proofreading that were to become a lifetime’s avocation. I graduated from Parish Bulletin and Summer School Newsletter to House Journal to technical journalism and found my life’s partner. Yet another published my teenage prattling under the pseudonym ‘Wag’, no questions asked; encouragement that positively counterbalanced parental discouragement, “Children should be seen and not heard!” Wag’s World is one result of that encouragement.

And there was the priest who leant his shoulder to youthful angst and introduced me to the wonderful works of Chesterton and Gallico, firm favourites that I return to in remembered friendship and delight.

How can I forget the priests who winkled me out of comfortable retirement to follow that bend in the road, to explore uncharted territory? To understand that talent must be exploited fully and not necessarily for personal gain? And to learn that ‘wherever women and men are open to being pulled out of themselves and their self-centred lives, there the words of St. Francis Xavier will continue to inspire and challenge.’ Challenged I was, and wholly enriched!

Priests have counseled, confessed, blessed and cherished.

Yes, every milestone in my life has been marked by encounters with priests. Why then, are they nameless? Because the list is so long and to name one and not the other would be poor recognition indeed. Of course, there were also the cantankerous, the obdurate, the irritating – no man is perfect! But each priest in his own way invests himself to become the connect between God and (wo)man. And wavering faith needs such a connect.

So, to those priests in my life who have come, gone, remained, returned to the Lord, this is my very inadequate but wholly sincere ‘Thank You!’

To the Catholic Priests I have known

…where there is injury, may my words be as balm.

They are men. And like all men, they can be infuriatingly logical, stolid and stubborn. I can remember the times without number that I have wailed, ‘But, Father…!’ And yet, they have been like signposts in my life, my inspiration and my strength.

Why the testimony? Because we are at a moment in time when the Catholic Church is besieged from within and without very publicly. Amid the furore in the Press, a quiet voice (via email) reminded me that for every one that stands accused, there are ten who are soldiering on to spread God’s word and work, hopefully, faithfully and lovingly.

This made me think about the Priests in my life – influences direct and indirect. The educators, formators, (tor)mentors and bulwarks. From the Priest who baptized me (he was Irish – therefore my gift of the gab?), to the burly Capuchin who confessed me that very first time in preparation for my First Holy Communion and Confirmation at the tender age of eight. Bear hugs, a well cushioned knee , sweets and a kitten magically produced on home visits made me feel cherished and secure. I loved that man. I also remember very clearly, a Holy Week when he was the only priest available in a remote upcountry parish: he had injured his back in a scooter accident (he used to carry out home visits on his cherished Lamby) despite which he had Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday to get through. In 1959 the rituals were formidable, yet he did his duty despite his pain-wracked body. Fifty years on, the experience is etched in memory.

Then on to school and catechism classes with Sunday School thrown in at weekends. We enjoyed the benefit of instructors both serious and humorous, each in their own way forming us for the future. I am reminded of a quote from Queen Rania of Jordan – “… a sense of values is essential because it is the shield which protects you from everything the world throws at you.” The priests who instructed us indeed provided us with the ‘armour of God’.

At this point, I realise that a great deal more of time and space is needed to do justice to the topic. So, look forward to tomorrow…