Christmas Anecdotes

The Staffordshire Sentinel asked me for some stories from parish life at Christmas for a piece on Saturday (Christmas Eve). Not so easy! I've no "Vicar of Dibley" stories about Christmas Dinners, nor can I think of funny incidents at Christmas Services (though there must have been some). However, here are a few things I did think of.

(Photo - Sacred Heart in the snow, 18th December 2011 © Peter Weatherby)

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My 6 year old granddaughter said to me recently, "Grandad ... I know who you really are!"

A bit surprised, I said to her, "Who am I then?"

She said to me "Well, you've got a fat belly, and a white beard, and I've seen a lot of presents in the room upstairs."

Pause.

"… YOU'RE SANTA CLAUS!".

I was lost for words.

Then she added, "Please ... will you come to my house first on Christmas Eve?"

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I've often been asked to play Father Christmas at schools. I've always been reluctant to do so for a very good reason.

Many years ago I was asked to be Father Christmas for a party at a local primary school. I wanted to be nice and friendly and helpful, but I felt very self conscious as I put on the costume somewhat awkwardly (it was a bit small), and the false beard was uncomfortable (It was necessary equipment, because in those days my own beard was brown and not white).

When the signal came, I walked out into the school hall. There was a moment of hush, then suddenly one of the children shouted out "it's the church man!".

My cover was blown.

I never played Father Christmas again!

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A few  years ago, I baptised 12 children at Sacred Heart, Hanley on Christmas day.

It was during the main mass of Christmas morning. I thought it would be a charming and appropriate way to celebrate the birth of Christ.

However it was totally chaotic, hectic, and difficult to manage! The children were noisy, the families confused and the congregation perplexed!

Before even the service was over, I decided never to do this again!

 

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Changing the Wallpaper

A couple of weeks ago I decided to change the wallpaper on my computer.

Now, when I log in, I see a stern and determined, bearded face staring intently towards me. There is no doubting the resolve in the eyes. It is a face which invites trust, but also has a certain edge. It is a face not to be denied, not to be resisted. And a left hand touches the chin, the edge of the beard, as if to indicate both thought, and decisiveness.

It is, what they call, an ‘iconic’ image.

But it is not a religious icon. It is not a picture of Christ or one of the saints. It is a black and white photograph, taken in 2006. It is an image of a man who died on October 5th 2011, the technological inspiration and entrepreneur, the founder of Apple, Steve Jobs.

So why would I, a religious man, a priest of the Catholic Church, have a picture of a business man - even a successful one - for his computer wallpaper?

Well, firstly, and I must be honest here, it is because I love the stuff he created. First it was an iPod, then when my old computer needed replacing it became an iMac, then an iPhone … It almost embarrasses me to continue. Like a religious convert, I have become an Apple geek and, in my worst moments, look down with technological snobbery on run-of-the-mill laptops and mobile phones. In my defence, I have to make clear that these are not just the most beautifully designed gadgets, gadgets which have broken new ground and have been widely copied, but also ones that work extremely well and without doubt help me in my work.

But in addition to the worldliness of my purchases, the devout might also complain that Jobs is an unworthy hero for a Christian minister. After all, he could be ruthless in his determination. Even his admirers admit he could be difficult to work with. And his own religious beliefs seem far from Christian. He became a Buddhist, and said “Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking.”

In a sweet irony an evangelical pastor in the United States summed up the dilemma. He tweeted that Jobs, an unbeliever, would now be suffering in the fires of hell. Unfortunately (for the pastor) he forgot to delete the automatically inserted conclusion of his message: “- sent from my iPhone”.

I, despite my adherence to dogma (which Jobs so clearly rejected), cannot share the cruel certainly of the American pastor. For good reason. God’s judgment is precisely that, and is not for me to pronounce.

I do believe what my Church teaches, that on death we proceed not straight to heaven, but immediately to God’s judgment. And he is a just and merciful judge who rejoices in human achievement and laments human frailty. In Catholicism we recognise that there may be those who come before God not in soaked in wickedness, yet not ready to enter immediately heaven. We call this sensible dogma “purgatory”, an occasion for preparation for eternal life.

And I also believe that those who do not embrace the Christian faith, may nevertheless in this life have a glimpse of its truth.

In a moving biographical speech in 2005, Jobs said:

“Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.”

Or as St Paul wrote “Death where is your victory? Death where is your sting?”

 

 

I can't believe it!

The "EXPLICIT: PARENTAL ADVISORY" warning on iTunes is intended to indicate abusive or inappropriate language - you know, the very bad, generally very short words that seem to be normal discourse of rappers and some comedians, and I don't really know who else (as I don't really interest myself in these offerings). It is also used for violent or sexually explicit content. Just as some will avoid this material, I guess there are also those who look out for the warnings.

If so, they may be in for a surprise, just as I was, this afternoon, when searching for a version of "I'll sing a hymn to Mary" which might be suitable to be played at a funeral tomorrow. When I saw one version was marked with the warning notice, I was at first a little sad - some blasphemy put out in the name of art or comment I guessed … But when I saw that the artist was the Choir of the Church of St Peter and St Paul, Wantage, then I went from sadness to astonishment.

Sure enough, their album Walsingham Way, a collection of hymns and songs to the Blessed Virgin Mary, popular and traditional in the Catholic Church, receives the warning notice, as do most of its items. This has to be seen to be believed:

How could this have come about? Some mischievous technician or editor?

Or, given that not all the songs received the tag, could it have been caused by an automated system flagging up a particular word … Such as "Virgin"?

We should be told.

(Note: Click on the image to go to the page - which may now have been updated!)

 

(Click on the image to go to the page - which may now have been updated!)