How to fight against secularism

Take one good priest, one crucifix....and one dog (a cat really will not do)

That's all you need really. A pastor unafraid of his bishop, the parish council and of the law of the land.

Of course, not every good priest is a 'Don Camillo'

Many fight with their intellect rather than by using brawn, but this fictional Italian priest sets a pretty good role model to follow.

Even if, sometimes, he displays the very human characteristic of getting it totally wrong.

The good Lord is always by his side and good always triumphs....

Don Camillo - The Procession

The Little World of Bishop Corny

(With apologies to Giovanni Guareschi)

Number ten in the series - Mosques of the World

Bishop Corny was transfixed. His head slightly bent forward, his delicate, sensitive hands firmly clasped together.

He gazed intensely at the table surface, not moving a muscle.

The clock ticked on his study wall but, all else was silence until, with a yelp of delight he seized a piece of the jigsaw in front of him crying: "Oh joy, I have found the missing piece of the mosque's minaret!"

For, indeed, he had struggled valiantly over the past 18 weeks, desperate to complete the 1000 piece jigsaw, number 10 in the series of Mosques of the World.

He was not aware of the knock on the door or of the appearance of his Diocesan Choreographer Sr Miriam Tursiops who boldly proclaimed to His Lordship that he was wanted on the phone.

"Not now, not now" hissed the Bishop, "I think I may have got the link to finishing this jigsaw. Tell 'em to buzz off"

Sr Tursiops turned dramatically and sashayed out of the room, considerably put out at receiving such abrupt treatment at the hands of the man to whom she had dedicated her dancing career.

The Bishop feverishly returned to his task, violently hammering in pieces of the jigsaw in spaces that were, all too plainly, not meant to receive them.

He was so desperate to complete this project that he failed to hear the ecumenical call to prayer that the local Ayatollah was, even now, nasally chanting from the Cathedral's steeple.

"It's 12 O'Clock Bishop, time for the adhan" trilled Sr Tursiops and, by the way, I've another caller for you on line one"

"It'll have to wait" snarled the Bishop, "And tell whoever is on that phone to stop cold calling me"

The good sister flounced out once more only to return a few minutes later to tell the Bishop that the mystery caller had telephoned for the third time and that she had used some very unnecclesiatical language on him.

"Good" said Bishop Corny, "I hope now that I can be left in peace to finish my jigsaw"

"Trouble is" replied Sr Tursiops, "It was Pope Francis wanting a word with you".

All of a sudden, 1000 jigsaw pieces were swept off the table and on the floor.

"******** it all" said the Bishop, burying his head in his fine, sensitive hands.

Is this the best Don Camillo passage ever?

                

Mayor Peppone has just been to confession, after 30 something years.

He confesses to Don Camillo that he was the one who gave the priest a good beating a few weeks previously.

Being the good priest that he is, Don Camillo gives Peppone a penance of 20 Hail Marys and 20 Our Fathers.

And then, as Peppone kneels to say his penance, Don Camillo discusses the matter with the crucified Christ above the altar:

"Lord, if I have been a worthy servant to you, grant me one small favour.

Let me at least hit him with this candle. After all, Lord, what is a candle?"

"No", replied Christ, "Your hands were made for blessing."

Don Camillo sighed wearily. He genuflected and left the altar.

As he turned to make a final sign of the cross, he found himself behind Peppone who still knelt at the communion rails and appeared absorbed in prayer.

"Lord", groaned Don Camillo, clasping his hands and looking up at the crucifix, "My hands were made for blessing, but not my feet".

"There's something in that" replied Christ, "but, I warn you, just one".

The kick landed like a thunderbolt. Peppone didn't bat an eye.

After a minute he got up and sighed.

"I've been expecting that for the past ten minutes," he remarked casually, "I feel better now."

"So do I" exclaimed Don Camillo whose heart was now as light and serene as a May morning.

Christ said nothing at all but it was easy to see that He too was pleased.



If you have not read any of the Don Camillo stories, I urge you to do so. They were written by Giovanni Guareschi and are still to be found on Abe and Amazon.

Don Camillo and the beachball (with apologies to Giovanni Guareschi)

Was it you who left the beachball on the altar Peppone?

"As Don Camillo made his way to the sacristy a sudden gust of wind took his biretta from his head and playfully tossed it back towards the door of the confessional.

Inwardly he scolded the sacristan for leaving one of the church windows open but then, upon arriving at the sanctuary, he saw that someone (presumably entering through the open window), had left a beachball on the altar.

“What is this nonsense Lord?” said Don Camillo.

“What do you mean?” said the figure of Christ from the crucifix above the altar.

“It’s only a beachball, Don Camillo, it is not as if it were a bomb or a nasty letter”

“But Lord” said Don Camillo, a beachball has no place on your altar where, in a few minutes time, I will be placing your Body and Blood; the altar is specifically reserve for specific objects, chalices, patens, ciborium, altar cards and so on – even the water and wine cruets are not placed on your altar”

The crucified Christ sighed and said: “Well, you are right, of course, Don Camillo, but can’t we overlook this show of frivolity just this once, I’m sure the person placing it there meant well”.

With this Don Camillo asked his leave of the Lord and went to the sacristy to vest for Mass.

Afterwards (and not even stopping for his customary few minutes thanksgiving at the foot of the cross), he dashed off to the People’s Palace to confront the Mayor whom he suspected of being behind this despicable act.

“Good morning Comrade Mayor” said Don Camillo with heavy irony: “I assume it was one of your henchmen who violated the altar during the night?”

“What are you talking about? Said Mayor Peppone: “Have you been drinking grappa at this early hour?”

Don Camillo picked up a bench of some considerable proportions and advanced on Peppone muttering through gritted teeth: “I’ll teach you to leave a beachball on the altar of the Lord”

Mayor Peppone was perplexed: “A beachball?” he said, “Left on the altar? Sounds more like one of the village lads playing a prank on you. 

Go home Don Camillo and take a few of those blood pressure pills, then you might be able to think a little more clearly”.

When Don Camillo returned to his church he was absolutely astounded to find the window open yet again.

He dashed to the altar and there, to his dismay, was a guitar and a copy of the Paul Inwood Hymnbook.

“Lord” he exclaimed to the crucified Christ: “who is persecuting me in this fashion?”

“No one is persecuting you, Don Camillo” said Christ, “It is me they are after and really, beachballs and guitars are much less offensive than whips and nails..... ......although, I do draw the line at the hymnbook.”  

What do you look for in a priest?

At first glance, this may seem a presumptuous question. What right has anyone to try and determine the outstanding qualities that one looks for in a parish priest.

                                     Don Camillo comes pretty close to the ideal in my book

Unfortunately, the ravages of liberalism have brought a lower calibre to many who have received the sacrament of Holy Orders.

There is now a free for all in terms of clerical dress (or non clerical dress), liturgical ad libbing, improvised practices on the sanctuary, disregard for home visits and a definite no-no on all blessings of the home, the sacrament of Penance reduced to a cosy chat in a sacristy ante room under the banner of Reconciliation (was there ever a more PC word?) and.......a suspected lack of belief in the Real Presence.

I say suspected because, I cannot prove anything in this respect, other then a long litany of examples of disrespect and even sacrilege towards the Blessed Sacrament - I do have a hazy recollection of some research carried out c. 1985 ish where parish priests were asked to fill in an anonymous questionnaire with their views on this and other topics.

I do distinctly recall the main statistic as being 48% of priests actually not believing that the bread and wine becomes the Body and Blood of Christ.

But, we are blessed today with a resurgence (albeit limited) of the faith amongst the priesthood - so, without naming any and causing embarrassment I thought it would be interesting to draw up a 'hit list' of the most desired qualities that you would wish to find in a priest.
I am leaving aside the reverence factor per se, as, presumably, we would all wish for our PP to be deeply spiritual and holy in all respects.

Here is my attempt at defining the desired qualities; I have included what the dating agencies call a GSOH. The advertising agency, Saatchi and Saatchi used to place humour at the top of their employee specification list and I like that. You need humour in this life, especially if you are called to be a servant of God.

The list is not exhaustive, feel free to add any facets that you see as being vital:-

1. Orthodox - meaning a knowledge of and love of all things regarding Church doctrine and moral and social
    teaching.

2. Ability to communicate clearly and simply - using all of the technologies available.

3. Power of oratory - no referring to notes, ability to project the voice, hold a thread and complete in less
    than 6 minutes

4. Love of God by which I mean, among many things, the desire to spend at least one hour each day
    kneeling before a crucifix.

5. A strong sense of humour - I learnt long ago that you can say what you like to people but, for your
    message to have impact, you need to smile, even when on the phone.

6. Gravitas. A priest needs to know when to call a halt to a conversation or when a meeting takes the wrong
    route. He must tread the line that cuts between teacher and friend.

7. An overwhelming desire to save souls. That should be the prime goal of all priests.

8. A lack of fear with regard to giving evidence to the external aspects of the Faith (wearing black and white
    clerical garb, saying grace before meals in public and speaking out at public meetings where moral issues
    are debated).

9. Obedience to the Holy Father first, and the bishop second.

10. An awareness and love of tradition in terms of liturgy, vestments and procedures - no guitar Masses, no
     Frank Sinatra songs at funerals, no call me "Jim" tacks and definitely no standing to receive the Eucharist
     by hand.

And, if I was looking for a number eleven, I might choose aversion to a certain magazine as fitting the bill.

Avalanche of books hits Pembrokeshire

Great Scott! I am overwhelmed with the kindness of people who responded to my call for guidance in choosing a few books for holiday reading.......the response has been so overwhelming that I do not know where to begin......so perhaps I should start by saying "Thank you all".

Don Camillo featured high on people's recommendations but, I may not have informed you, Dear Readers, that I hold a place in The Guinness Book of Records for the person who has read the Guareschi series cover to cover non stop for the past fifty years (I started very young).

Fathers Abberton and EF Pastor came up with some interesting ones, I am especially intrigued by the western novel from Fr A, many thanks.

Mack, Ttony, Seaninn, Anagnostis, Dylan Parry and Nancy L  came up with enough ideas to provide me with a good Christmas as well as summer holiday list, again, profuse thanks.

But the gold medal has to go to Seaninn for suggesting "The Dog", I have gone ahead and ordered it from Amazon, the silver medal goes to Fr Abberton for recommending St Agnes' Stand and the bronze (I'm getting into Olympic mode) goes to Anagnostis for his "Fludd" - sounds most intriguing.

Breadgirl made a very astute comment regarding the differences in book choices made by men and women; they've just got to be different.
 I think this is very true but cannot really fathom why it should be so. Most of my favourite authors are male, make of that what you will.

But, the diamond encrusted medal has to go to my Antipodean son who found a literary treasure somewhere south of Alice Springs and is sending it to me post haste.

Got to be a mystery read but, knowing Matthew, it will surprise and delight.

Christmas - in the Po Valley!

If you have never read any of the Don Camillo stories then you are the poorer for it.

The Catholic priest with hands like joints of ham and a short fuse temper has the characteristics of so many of us. He also has close and intimate conversations with the crucified Christ in his church and a long running battle with communism and, in particular, the red mayor, known as Peppone.

Here is an extract from 'The Little World of Don Camillo'


"Christmas was approaching and it was high time to get the figures of the Crib out of their drawer so that they might be cleaned, touched up here and there and any stains carefully removed.

It was already late, but Don Camillo was still at work in the presbytery. He heard a knocking on the window and on seeing that it was Peppone went to open the door.

Peppone sat down while Don Camillo resumed his work and neither of them spoke for quite a long time.

'Hell and Damnation!' exclaimed Peppone suddenly and furiously.

'Couldn't you find a better place to blaspheme in than my presbytery?' inquired Don Camillo quietly.
'Couldn't you have got it off your chest at your own headquarters?'

"One can't even swear there any longer," muttered Peppone. "Because if one does someone asks for an explanation."

Don Camillo applied a little white lead to St Joseph's beard.

"No decent man can live in this filthy world!" exclaimed Peppone after a pause.

"How does that concern you?" inquired Don Camillo. "Have you by any chance become a decent man?"

"I've never been anything else."

"There now! And I should never have thought it." Don Camillo continued his retouching of St Joseph's beard. Then he began to tidy up the saint's clothing.

"How long will you be over that job?" asked Peppone angrily.

"If you were to give me a hand it would soon be done."

Peppone was a mechanic and he possessed hands as big as shovels and enormous fingers that gave no impression of clumsiness. Nevertheless, when anybody wanted a watch repaired, they never failed to take it to Peppone.
Because it is a fact that that it is precisely such bulky men that are best adapted to the handling of minute things.
Peppone could streamline the body of a car or the spokes of a wheel like a master painter.

"Are you crazy! Can you see me touching up saints?" he muttered. "You haven't by any chance mistaken me for a sacristan?"

Don Camillo fished in the bottom of the open drawer and brought forth a pink and white object about the size of a sparrow; it was, in fact, the Holy Infant Himself.

Peppone hardly knew how he came to find it in his hands, but he took up a little brush and began working carefully. He and Don Camillo sat on either side of the table, unable to see each other's faces because of the light of the lamp between them.

"It's a beastly world," said Peppone. "If you have something to say you daren't trust anyone. I don't even trust myself."

Don Camillo appeared to be absorbed in his task: the Madonna's whole face needed repainting.
"Do you trust me?" he asked casually.

"I don't know."

"Try telling me something and then you will know."

Peppone completed the repainting of the Baby's eyes, which were the most difficult part. Then he touched up the red of the tiny lips.
"I should like to give it all up," said Peppone, "but it can't be done."

"What prevents you?"

"Prevents me? With an iron bar in my hand I could stand up to a regiment!"

"Are you afraid?"

"I've never been afraid in my life!"

"I have, Peppone. Sometimes I am frightened."

Peppone dipped his brush in the paint. "Well, so am I, sometimes" he said, and his voice was almost inaudible.

Don Camillo sighed. "The bullet was within four inches of my forehead," said Don Camillo. "If I hadn't drawn my head back at that exact moment I should have been done for. It was a miracle."

Peppone had completed the Baby's face and was now working with pink paint on His body.

"I'm sorry I missed," he mumbled, "but I was too far off and the cherry trees were in the way."

Don Camillo's brush ceased to move....................

..........Peppone sighed and continued his painting.

"There is something wrong," he said suddenly. "They all look at me with different eyes now. All of them, even Brusco."

"And Brusco is thinking the same as you are, and so are the rest of them," replied Don Camillo. "Each of them is afraid of the others and every time any one of them speaks he feels as if he must defend himself."

"But why?"

"Shall we leave the politics out of it Peppone?"

Peppone sighed again. "I feel as if I were in gaol," he said gloomily.

"There is always a way out of gaol in this world," replied Don Camillo. "Gaols only confine the body, and the body matters so little."

The Baby was now finished and it seemed as if His clear, bright colouring shone in Peppone's huge dark hands. Peppone looked at Him and he seemed to feel in his palms the living warmth of that little body.
He forgot all about being in gaol.

He laid the Baby delicately upon the table and Don Camillo placed the Madonna near Him.

"My son is learning a poem for Christmas," Peppone announced proudly. "Every evening I hear his mother teaching it to him before he goes to sleep.
He's a wonder!"

"I know" agreed Don Camillo. "Look how beautifully he recited the poem for the bishop!"

Peppone stiffened. "That was one of the most rascally things you ever did!" he exclaimed. "I shall get even with you yet."

"There is plenty of time for getting even, or for dying," Don Camillo replied.

Then he took the figure of the ass and set it down close to the Madonna as she bent over her Child.
"That is Peppone's son, and that is Peppone's wife, and this one is Peppone," said Don Camillo laying his finger on the figure of the ass.

"And this one is Don Camillo!" exclaimed Peppone, seizing the figure of the ox and adding it to the group.

"Oh well! Animals always understand one another," said don amillo.

And though Peppone said nothing he was now perfectly happy, because he still felt in the palm of his hand the living warmth of the pink Baby; and for a time the two men sat in the dim light looking at the little group of figures on the table and listening to the silence that has settled over the Little World of Don Camillo, and that silence no longer seemed ominous but instead full of peace."

         A very Holy and Happy Christmas
                              Feast to all!

With 200 hundred priests like this man we could bring Europe back to the Faith!

Let me first do a little scene setting for those of you unfamiliar with this Italian priest. First of all he is fictional (sadly). Secondly, he lived (if a character in a book can be said to have 'lived') in post war Italy and never ever set foot in Great Britain. Thirdly, he has characteristics that, perhaps are part of all of us. He is a passionate defender of the faith, he gets things wrong occasionally, he converses with the crucified Christ, he is a shade hot tempered and liable to bash his opponents about the ears and, deep down he loves his enemies. But, above all else, he loves the crucified Christ.

He battles daily with the devil (mainly in the stylised form of Communist Mayor Peppone) who is really someone whom he loves as one of Christ's own (Peppone that is, not the devil). This is post war Italy, still a country split by violent factions, ex Partisans, Reds, Christian Politicos and even a few fascists still lying around all contribute to a volatile existence for a country parish priest.

But Don Camillo, aided by the Lord on the cross, bashes his way to keeping the faith uppermost in people's minds. In this clip he is about to lead a procession for the annual blessing of the River Po when he learns that the communist mob, led by Peppone, is out to wreak havoc on his parishioners and his plans.

What does he do? He does not cancel the procession, he sends the altar servers and his parishioners home to safety. He is a good shepherd.

And then he realises that he has to undertake the procession alone, except for the crucified Christ. The symbolism is heavy here. He picks up the cross and commences the slow march to the river......the rest you may see for yourself!



This form of action is what we lack today. But then, of course, one could argue that we in the western world at least, are not called to fight our corner in the way that Don Camillo had to except.......maybe we are; not with flailing fists but with reasoned logic and a fearless approach to standing up to an authority that wishes to destroy life in the womb, dispose of the homeless, aged and incapacitated and fragment the family unit.

I find strong comparisons between Don Camillo and our blogging priests who, metaphorically, at least, are not afraid to knock a few heads together!

* The Don Camillo series is written by Giovanni Guareschi. Several films were made in the 1950s starring Fernandel as Don Camillo, an inspired choice.

Does Don Camillo have the Catholic identity?

Don Camillo - as played by Fernandel

OK, I know he is a fictional character and he has been around for 60 or so years now but, for me, Giovanni Guareschi's small town Italian Priest with hands like joints of meat and a massive overdose of charity and a touch of peasant guile does symbolise much that I, if not admire, certainly can empathise with. He is so very human and comes with all the frailities associated with that label. He is quick to anger but, equally quick to forgive. He defends his faith in a muscular fashion and, maybe we could do with a bit more of that today. I remember a well known Catholic priest of the 60s whose parish was in Tiger Bay, Cardiff. A rough and violent neck of the woods if ever there was one. One of his docker parishioners constantly beat up his long suffering wife. Father H received a report of an exceptionally bad beating (up to then he had admonished and remonstrated with the man) and decided that enough was enough. He went round to the house, took off his jacket and gave the man a thorough thrashing. He never laid a hand on his wife after that. I like direct and effective action. I even think that, on that occasion, it was a Christ like thing to do. Don Camillo would have done that and then he would have sought the company of the crucified Christ in his church and confessed to a sin of anger. "Did you cause him permanent harm Don Camillo?" The Lord would say.
"No, Lord, I just duffed him up a bit". "Well, then you have done my work for me, thank you Don Camillo".
If you have never read the Don Camillo series I recommend that you do so. Every story has a moral and every story portrays good versus bad - not evil, just bad. And maybe that is part of our identity also.

Good usually triumphs in the Don Camillo stories - but not always!