I first became aware of Kieran Conry when he was the head of The Catholic Media Office and my parish was splashed all over the media, world wide. Other than the fact that all statements went through his office, he was an ‘also resident’ priest with my then parish priest’s good friend.

The next I knew of him he was elevated to the episcopacy. I first met him on July 2001 when I received my ministry of lector from him at St John’s Seminary at Wonersh. He was a new bishop and was not shy to share with us his desire to get things right on the day. This by turns, of course, put us all at our ease.

The following year I attended an ordination, he was the celebrant. I have never forgotten the words he said to the new deacon in his homily. “People will look for you for support, you might feel the need to turn to others in order to support those who need you, but don’t forget God, he wants you to do this work (stress on the ‘you’) otherwise we would not be here now”.

I encountered Bishop Conry a few time after that but our first conversation came in Lourdes during Low Week this year. I told him about the ordination and he appeared happy that I remembered this, he might have thought me a saddo, but no one would have known. A couple of days later we passed each other in the street “Good morning My Lord” said I “Good morning Tom” he replied, not a bad attempt I thought, at least he got the initial right!

Later I relayed the story to someone from A&B, he told me about something he had witnessed in recent years, also in Lourdes, which has, like the ordination homily, stayed with me. My correspondent tells me he was standing by the Pont des Arcades when along came a bishop, dressed in a cassock with his episcopurple cincture on, he was surrounded by three others who were all carrying things.

Shortly behind came Bishop Conry, with a family with young children, carrying one on his back and chatting to another. Which of these two was acting in persona Christi? This image popped into my mind when Pope Francis spoke of ‘shepherds smelling of the sheep’.

As soon as I heard the sad news of Bishop Conry’s resignation I just knew there would be gloating and unkind comments. Those who would be prone to make such comments will have taken no regard for any hurt being felt by anyone, and to a small extent I am relieved to see that others have noticed this, relieved, but far from please.

I was at Mass in an A&B parish today, the statement from Bishop Conry was read out before Mass, the priest then said “He who was our father is now our brother”, we must all remember this, we must all remember that when we fall, we have the privilege of calling our brethren just that.

There has been a lot of talk on Twitter over the past week on a Mass in the extraordinary form coming to an end in a parish well known for it’s Traditional Latin Mass. One element of the discussion has, I feel, been a little short sighted from the outset. There have been comments that the new parish priest has no right to cancel the EF Mass, comments such as “how dare he” (I kid you not) have been tweeted.

This of course will mean the previous parish priest will have no right to introduce a weekly Sunday TLM in his new parish. The new parish already has a regular, though less frequent, TLM. Will any adjustment to the current style of Masses in his new parish be greeted with the same disappointment from those voicing their concern? I hope so, otherwise we are being rather hypocritical.

I have seen quite a few blog posts on the matter this week also. Most of them from anonymous bloggers, therefore they would really have no credibility. If one has something to say, stand up and say it, or hold your counsel. If you are not anonymous to your friends, then fine, say it to your friends but we have seen how anonymity is used on social media to stir disquiet. Stirring disquiet is not a new phenomenon in the Church, St Benedict wrote of murmerers in his rule as far back as 1500 years ago.

However, of the blogs I have read by named authors none of them mention their contact with the new parish priest, none of them mention their conversation with him. They do mention the concerns of those who are sad to see the changes, but of course this is only one side of the story, I have seen no blogs reporting the feeling of anyone who is in accord with the changes either. What I have seen in this instance though is a request for prayer for all concerned. I have noted often before how such a request is conspicuous by its absence.

Another notable absence in the discussion is the use of any facts and figures. The Latin Mass Society has a whole page on their website advising people of the number of people seeking sacraments. The figures come from the Catholic Directory. This gives me the confidence to proceed to my next point.

To make this point I shall use a scenario. Just imagine that in four deaneries in one diocese a Folk Mass, all tambourines, ukuleles, rainbows and unicorns was offered every Sunday. Imagine the outcry if three of the parishes that offered these Masses suffered huge losses to their congregations in five years, these losses being measured by the returns the parish make to the diocese. By huge losses I refer to the region of 20%. This would take into consideration the shifting demographic of the location. If the next highest loss in a deanery was, let’s just say 13.6% and the Folk Mass parish was 24.4%, clearly there is an issue.

On the other hand, if the fourth parish lost about 8% and was just below the average loss made in its deanery one might expect to see that Mass left as it was while the others would take some serious thought.

Or would people say ‘Some have a great devotion to the clapping Gloria and You Shall Go Out With Joy, so they should be allowed to continue the Mass every week’? Whatever rule was decided, it should cover all rites.

We all get it wrong sometimes don’t we. If you could be awarded points for getting it wrong I’d have a PhD by now and you could all fall at my feet. This idea, of course, is also sinful. It’s a human condition to dig one’s heels in when you get it wrong and someone points it out. In my younger days I was a devil for this, when I think of my poor colleagues at that time, how they put up with me I will never understand.

I learned a great lesson from a Confirmation catechetical trainer in the mid 80s, I agreed to help a friend who was in charge of Confirmation in his parish and in order to do this I was asked to attend a course run by the Christian Education Centre at Tooting Bec. Having arrived we were asked to go into one room and sign in, within minutes we were then asked to sign in in a different room. Tetchy boy here said in a loud, condescending voice “but you’ve just said to go to……” the chap from the CEC replied “I know, I am so sorry, my error”.

I wasn’t ready for that, I was ready for a justification and possibly a fight. It was a seminal moment, I could see this chap actually was sorry, he was regretful of what he had done and the forgiveness of all of us was instant.

From that day forward I have always sought forgiveness when I have got something wrong. When I know I have caused offence I have looked to build bridges, whether they are accepted or not I do not push, what must be known is my contrition.

I know I slip back from time to time, mentioning no names but someone I am married to has said to me on occasions “It doesn’t count if you say ‘I’m sorry, but….’” which of course is true. There is not a person in the world who does not have mitigating circumstances. And I have tried using this as well, blaming the car, cat, kids, bank, umbrella, ladder, tiredness, even bereavements of my younger days but no matter what the circumstances, a wrong is a wrong.

And if you catch me in the wrong, tell me, I’ll I’ll put it right, no excuses.

We had a houseful last night, 20 of my daughter’s friends aged between 25-27 and three little ones. My wife and I looked after the food so the hostess could enjoy herself, the plan was we’d feed them and then retire, but it didn’t work like that, we were in the thick of it throughout the evening.

At a quarter to one in the morning, a couple of the lads decided, in spite of all the food left over, a korma was required. two of the more ‘refreshed’ lads went off with the designated driver to get this, and a Jalfrezi for a braver chap.

When they returned I started to wash plates as they were all in the dishwasher, along with the food the chaps returned with another, equally refreshed chap one of them had met only a couple of times before, who was outside the Indian takeaway.

Our new chap was perfectly jovial and amenable, I stopped seeing to the plates and got him a drink, being much older than anyone else there, he was a little bemused as to who I was but his impaired judgement had him believe I am a great guy, he said so about 15 times.

I proceeded to plate up the Korma, and the Jalfrezi, which was in a sauce you could see 30 miles away, our new guest asked one of the chaps who I was. At the very same time the chap he asked was told by his wife that she wanted to go home. So on asking who I was our new friend heard the words “Bubba (pet name, not her actual name you understand) look at Tony, he’s dishing up” but to our new friend it was “Bubba Lookatoni, he’s dishing up” and our new friend decided my name must be Bubba Lookatoni.

Not only did he proceed to call me Bubba for the rest of his time with us, he asked me if I was on Facebook and do I spell my name L.O.O.K.A.T.O.N.I or E or Y?

As they left, each guest called me Bubba, and I suspect I’ll be called Bubba for a time to come.

The error of the Icebucket Challenge was a positive out of a negative. It came about when someone spotted I have a stalker of whom I was not aware. I have other Twitter stalkers, but there is only one of (well I was going to say six profiles but it could be any amount) the six of whom I was aware that I take seriously. The rest I let have their little play, their rants and their comments. Like we used to say in the playground when I was a schoolboy, If they’re having a pop at me they’re leaving someone else alone, and they find plenty of people to lay in to. And it’s done anonymously, using a name that is not their own, apart from the one I take seriously.

But this stalker was different. It is someone who knows me personally, someone with whom I have eaten and drank (yes, that drank) and someone for whom I had a lot of time. I was not only shocked by this behaviour but shaken, and I still am as I type this.

I am not equating my experience with those who have suffered grievous harm due to the behaviour of stalkers, I must make that clear. But when power neediness leads to a Lack of Virtue, this is how such people, and their associates, usually people they know in the flesh, start to act, and they adopt it as their norm.

They are oblivious to how their actions are received. This trait is common in people who have Asperger’s Syndrome but that is not a defence this little mob can use.

Finding out about this latest person has spooked me I admit, I expected better. To be honest I am angry with myself for not listening to someone who used to see them daily and putting myself in a position where I can feel disappointed.

I’ll stay off Twitter for a few days and let my own personal dust settle, then I’ll man up and get back to tweeting nonsense, something at which I excel.

In England we call it Motor Neurone Disease, MND for short, in America they call it Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS. The ALS Icebucket Challenge, where you endure pouring a bucket of icy water over yourself has become an internet sensation, and at the same time raised hundreds of thousands of pounds into research for this illness.

On Tuesday morning I woke up to a Facebook post from my cousin Jack asking me to accept the challenge. My initial reaction was to say “I’m going away, I won’t have time” but that’s not like me so I did it, all by myself at 6am in the morning. I posted the video on Facebook, challenged three chaps to do the same and added a link to the MND association donation page on their website.

Later that evening I noted a thread on Twitter about it, so I posted three still from my video. A discrete DM told me that ALS are involved in embryonic stem cell research. My blood ran cold. This is something I should have known and couldn’t understand how I didn’t. I know we all make mistakes etc etc yada yada yada but I was very disquieted by this.

I did what all good Catholic boys do in this situation, I prayed. I prayed all day Wednesday about it, at every possible opportunity I prayed, and two lots of those prayers I was able to offer in cathedrals, for which I was grateful. When I did vespers on Wednesday I felt as if I was being spoken to by God, the antiphon to the first psalm was “How wonderful is this knowledge of yours that you have shown me, Lord” and the short reading was 1 John 2:3-6 “anyone who says ‘I know him’ and does not keep his commandments is a liar”. It was as if God was saying “stop praying and act Tony, then all will be well”.

Having prayed I emailed the Motor Neurone Disease Association and voiced my disquiet. The email was not sent until the end of the working day. Today I received a reply saying this: –

“With regard to stem cell research, current research funded by the Association only uses induced pluripotent stem cells. These are engineered stem cells and are created from the skin cells of someone living with MND. The researchers then reprogram thess skin cells into stem cells, which they can then manipulate to become motor neurones.

These ‘stem cell derived motor neurones’ are useful for researchers as they enable us to study what’s happening in living human motor neurones affected by MND (this was something that was deemed science fiction in the early 2000s – we could only study post mortem tissue previously). These stem cell derived motor neurones also allow us to use less animal models in our research and have the potential to become an effective drug screening tool.

Therefore I would like to reassure you that currently the Association does not fund research into the use of human embryonic stem cells – all our research currently uses the above type of stem cell and I have attached our information sheet which explains more about these projects in more detail should you wish to read more about this research.”

I was greatly relieved as you can imagine. If anyone wants to see the email themselves, leave me a comment and I will forward it to you. I was also grateful that I donated to the right charity, I can only thank my guardian angel for that one.

Update: A personal perspective from my Facebook friend Shirley Weatherby: –

Motor neurone disease as it is known as in the UK an incurable terminal and devastating disease. Fought with courage by my later husband Allan back in the early 1980’s – who lost his fight for life through it at the tender age of 31. David Niven the famous actor also died of it and it was his publicity and his thumbs up in hope of a cute that gave MNDA the logo it has today. Unlike the American ALS that use embryo stem cell research which would stop me giving to ALS charity for that very reason. Though I do support and would happily give to MNDA. My husband now, Fr Peter Weatherby and myself both launched with help, awareness of MND by starting the MNDA group In Reading in Berkshire in 1986. MND does not use embryo stem cell research and if you read the next post below (Which is mine above TF) you can see what they had to say about that yesterday.

It is devastating and heartbreaking watching a loved one suffer with this disease. A cure was never to be in my husband’s life time for him to watch his 3 babies of 1, 4 and 5 grow up into the beautiful young adults they are today, 36, 35 and 32 all outlived their own daddy in heaven already. He is very proud of them as I’m sure he is very proud of them as he watched over them. I’d love to see a cure for MND

—–and back to me. I said on Facebook when I posted the reply from MNDA I was very aware of the word ‘currently’being used in the reply. My future relationship with MNDA will be subject to me monitoring this.

In the past few weeks I have been to Mass in no less that seven different parishes. In each of these places there have been differences. There have been huge differences in some aspects, there have been nuances in others. Ultimately the formula stays the same, no matter what is happening beforehand, be it collective prayer, silence, or chatter (I know I know) a bell rings and Mass happens. Now I know there will be some that will pull me up on my simplistic language but I am keeping it simple here, Mass happens.

I have spotted at each Mass the things that would have some Twitterati and Blogservatives foaming at the mouth. But I have also seen things that would make other Twitterati and Libloggers cry that we’re all going to hell in a handcart. But ultimately, the congregation are there, participating, in the true sense, in what is happening through the celebrant.

There’s one particular aspect that I have noted of late. An aspect of Holy Mass that some, including it’s sad to say, priests have felt it ok to denigrate; The Sign of Peace.

Being as old as I am, 55, I remember when we first started doing the sign of peace. In my head I can see my mum with her friends Mary and Ursula standing stock still, staring in front of them at this point, refusing categorically that they were going to get mixed up in any of ‘that nonsense’. I can recall a conversation outside Mass where one of them said “We’re not Italian, we’re British, we don’t do that sort of thing”. This was counteracted by Sofia (guess where she is from) saying “err?” That one syllable was all it took to make her point.

Within a few weeks it had all settled down, the sign of peace became an integral part of the Mass, and it remains so today. With my hand on a Holy Bible I can say that having looked to see how other parishes react to the ‘Sign’ I can see no difference in any of them.

I I was somewhat taken aback when I attended a Sunday service at my wife’s Anglican parish and ‘the peace’ went on for ages. There was hugging and kissing and moving about to wherever people wanted to go, I saw things being written down, conversations going on, it was relentless. A few days later I said this to some friends back at my parish and what I was asked by two people made me smile and drove the point home
“You’ve never been to Mass in Nigeria then?”
“Or Colombia?”

The Vatican has recently drawn attention to the length of time some people will take to, shall we say, enjoy” the sign of peace, but in agreement with Christina Odone, I really don’t think they has anywhere in Northern Europe in mind. (In fact I know they don’t but I can’t name my source).

But this does not take away the fact that once again there are priests who are proud to separate themselves from Mother Church on this matter. And they are vain enough to need people to agree with them. I find it ironic that the same priests would be blogging at 90 miles an hour if any Catholic priest started blessing the union of same sex couples in church, or started talking about planned parenthood as a possible doctrine. And that’s just the priests! There’s also self appointed great and good who will feel they need to avail us of their insight, an insight gained by their academic qualifications but wouldn’t dream of lauding a bishop who, like all good shepherds, smells of his sheep (unless there were economic reasons of course, then they might eventually, begrudgingly applaud him). But as we know, God doesn’t call the qualified, he qualifies the called.

Pope Francis has come in for quite a bit of criticism from Catholics with certain sensitivities. I am yet to discuss this in person with anyone who does not consider this scandalous. This scandal was highened recently by a priest, who in his blog, said it was perfectly OK to criticise Pope Francis. Yes of course Father, and how would you be if Pope Benedict had come in for the same amount of criticism?

There will always be dissenting voices in the Catholic Church, there always has been, there will always be the whingers, there always has been, if not there would not be deacons (Acts 6). Corrie ten Boom said ‘A Church big enough for our understanding would not be big enough for our needs’, I believe the same goes for tastes too, it’s inevitable there will be things we don’t like about the Church at some point in our lives, but like all tastes, they can change.

I can tell you first hand that Jesus not only comforts the afflicted, but he afflicts the comfortable, so get with it and have faith. There has, for 2000 years, and always will be ‘until the end of time’ a Catholic Church. If not, there’s the 44 year old SSPX.

I was exceptionally touched by this post: –

http://www.niallthinksandwrites.blogspot.co.uk/2014/04/a-brief-note-on-my-privilege.html

Niall and I were almost bought up in different worlds, but with many parallels. Niall lost two brothers before he was 20, I lost my dad when I was seven and a brother when I was 12, Niall describes the losses as learning to live with a disability, I’d agree with this, although the loss of my dad affected me in a much more profound way, the emotional cost of losing my brother was greater, obviously it was so much more understood.

Niall speaks of his white, middle class, well educated background as being privileged. So I must look very odd when I consider my Irish, working class, single parent, inner city council estate, Comprehensive educated didn’t know what a degree is and left at 16, raised on benefits background as being privileged also. I am one of twelve children, one was stillborn, we lost Jim after a heart operation when I was 12, as I said, but my parents, and for the younger half of the family, my mum, raised us to aspire to be more. Not to want more, but to be more.

The parallels don’t end with the bereavements, I too was bullied as a child. I was a snivelling little runt who was as sporty as a lilo and cried easily. This too continued in my working life, into my 20s, it was a work friend who told me “take the ‘victim’ tattoo of your forehead and give as good as you get” that made me understand I was seen as a victim, someone whom oppressors would see as fair game. A change of job and the ditching of a few acquaintances saw a sea change in this area.

Again, as Niall speaks of, the wounds are there, the sorrows are there and in my case, the neuroses are there too. Being old enough to be Niall’s dad, I can assure him, that like the bereavements, you learn how to handle them, to file them away like you do your pension paperwork and insurance documents, and when they come out, it’s to utilise the lessons not experience the pain.

Niall’s words on victimhood hit this nail squarely on the head. One remains a victim when one wants to be, and it adopts a power. It adopts a power that’s utilised by making out the true victim to be the oppressor. Happily the vast majority are wise to this.

In the past I have seen myself as a victim of circumstance, now I see myself as a product of a privileged social and economic background that helps move people on, and that system is largely fueled by the middle class well educated, high earning gifted and talented stock who are so often seen as the oppressor.

Well not round my house they’re not.

Back in the late 60s or early 70s one of my siblings was going on a school trip. Most of my memories of the day are vague, who it was and where they were going has escaped me, but it was during the school holidays and they had to be at school for 2pm.

We woke that morning to mum in a huge flap, she could not find the keys to the suitcase, the one and only suitcase we owned in our house. My elder siblings, who were going off to work were all throwing suggestions as to where they might be but these were agitating mum rather than helping her.

We were all awake as she was dipping in and out of rooms, examining every draw, cupboard, shelf, windowsill, everywhere. She also told us we all needed to pray to St Anthony or the trip wasn’t going to happen.

As I came down stairs the door bell rang, I remember we all stopped and looked at each other, which was strange because at 9am in the morning, in our house, this was not unusual, but I remember the pause very clearly. My sister opened the front door and there was May who lived next door.

“Jose” she said “I keep meaning to give you this purse back that you lent me, I found it this morning, I saw the boys going off to work so I thought I’d give it back to you while I remember”. Mum took it gratefully but May could see she had a cob on so didn’t hang around. Mum held the purse in her hand, said “my God!” and opened it. The suitcase keys were in the purse. And yes this is a true story.

This week on Facebook one of my wife’s friends told how she lost her wedding ring on the beach. Wendy wrote under the status that she should say a prayer to St Anthony, other comments were made, such as “why?”, “I do that” and “don’t be silly”. As Wendy read this out, a debate opened up among the friends we were with as to the feasibility of St Anthony really being able to help you find things.

I explained how he had got this reputation after he prayed for the return of a missing psalter, which had been taken accidentally by a novice monk. The novice received a vision of St Anthony looking for the psalter and returned it. “So you can help me find my sunglasses?” I was asked, a little incredulously by Cathy, one of our lunch guests, I suggested we pray together but she was not comfortable with that so I said I’d pray for the return of her sunglasses, and, actually, while I was at it, I’d pray for mine too, I had not seen them this year.

Two days later my daughter wanted to borrow a beanie hat (don’t ask) I went and got one, and my sunglasses were there. Yesterday afternoon my wife returned from Fitsteps to say Cathy came up to her wide eyed “Did he pray?” she asked
“Yes, of course” she replied
“It’s blown my mind” said Cathy, she went on to explain how she had taken her daughter to a friend’s house, where she had not been for a year, on arrival, the friends mum asked Cathy
“Are these your sunglasses?”

Yesterday I joined the protest organised by Aid to the Church in Need in support of the Christians in Iraq and Syria who are being butchered by ISIS for being nothing more than Christians. It was across the road from the Houses of Parliament.

When I arrived there was was good crowd assembling. The crowd was easy to to spot as so many of them wore the same white teeshirts. Already banners were unfurling and clergymen in various types of attire from the middle east were also gathering.

Having bumped into a friend I was expecting to meet there, who is a priest, he pointed me where he was standing as he handed out rosary cards and I went and joined his friends. I soon got into conversation with a gentleman called Jack, a convert to Catholicism who had made the journey that day from Bristol to join us. Jack was a little concerned as he had not seen any of the friends he was expecting to meet, Jack and I chatted, I introduced him to my new friends who Fr Charles had introduced me to five minutes before and we stood together holding our ن signs.

About midday the place was suddenly chock-a-block, A group of clergy from various places stood where they could be seen, we prayed together, we chanted together and we stood in solidarity with those who are suffering.

We attempted to march to downing street but were not able to do so. About 1.30pm I left to go home.

All day today I have had one image in my head, an image that illustrated the solidarity, an image that showed, this is a human matter, not a religious one, as some passing gent kindly advised us at the top of his voice, it is a human matter, and any decent person will not fail be moved and the proof was in my head, I’m glad I captured it on camera.