Scottish Catholic Observer

Sometimes ‘virtual friendships,’ those which begin on social media, can give rise to real ‘face to face’ ones. Through the exchange of Twitter messages and our overlapping interests, I have recently been befriended by a Baptist pastor who ministers in Newton Mearns. We had our first proper sit down together last Monday over a coffee in Glasgow.

Brian is no stranger to ecumenical liaisons, as he counts my own esteemed colleague and mentor Mgr Tom Monaghan among his circle of friends. The focus of our conversation was, perhaps unsurprisingly, on Christian unity and I was reminded of my own comment a few weeks ago in this very column about the importance of an ecumenism of friendship. It was certainly good to sit down with someone from another tradition and find out how much we have in common, and not just in the theological or pastoral spheres.

I think CS Lewis was on the money when he said: “What draws people to be friends is that they see the same truth. They share it.” The truth in question here, however, is not ‘Catholic truth’ or ‘Baptist truth’ but the one who is truth (John 14: 6).

There has been much talk of late of our living in a ‘post-truth age’ with ‘alternative facts.’ I suppose there is something to that: if you keep telling a lie often enough, you can begin to persuade yourself—and others— that it’s the truth. It is certainly much easier to airbrush reality nowadays than it once was. One of my friends gave me a good laugh last week when he doctored a photo of me addressing an assembly in St Columba’s High School.

Thanks to his skill with photo editing software, the lectern was transformed into a presidential podium and I was flanked by the stars and stripes: President Bollan in full flow. Thank goodness for the separation of Church and State, I hear you cry!

If I’m being truthful, however, what I would really love to be ‘photoshopped into’ is the Tardis. I have loved Doctor Who since I was a child: my first clear memory of watching television is of seeing the Sea Devils come bobbing up out of the water and advancing menacingly on Jon Pertwee’s third incarnation of the role.

My Mum had one of her friends knit me an unfeasibly long striped scarf, in imitation of Tom Baker’s, and I would run around with a real screwdriver, pretending it was of the sonic variety. Nowadays you would get lifted for that. In fact, my primary motivation for pursuing my PhD was so that I could enjoy that little thrill of hearing people call me ‘doctor.’

It is perhaps the action of providence that I was recalled from my teaching post at Glasgow University, since my daily commute would take me past the police box on Buchanan Street and my occasional pauses beside ‘the Tardis’ were beginning to turn into loitering. And you can get lifted for that too, as I have discovered.

As it happens, there will soon be a vacancy in the Tardis since the 12th actor to play the role, Glasgow’s own Peter Capaldi, has announced that he is hanging up his sonic screwdriver after three years in the role.

While not everyone has warmed to his portrayal, I thought he was superb with his slightly more crotchety interpretation of the character than his immediate predecessors.

Although the tone of ‘Nu Who,’ as commentators refer to the relaunched version of the show, with regards to religion has tended to side with a more atheistic view than the benign agnosticism of the classic programme, I like to think of the Tardis as a decidedly Catholic invention.

Anthony Coburn, the man who wrote the first Doctor Who adventure back in 1963, was a devout Catholic and regular speaker for the Catholic Evidence Guild at Speakers’ Corner in Hyde Park.

It was he who fleshed out the bare outline of the Doctor’s character and who gave the famous space-time machine its even more famous name. It was another Catholic, this time the Polish set designer Peter Brachacki, who created the first interior of the Tardis, with its iconic six-sided control panel and its cavernous inner dimensions.

Since I have not yet gained my Equity Card, I suppose this coveted role will go to an ‘actor.’ I wonder who, though? There is a curious similarity between vacancies in the Tardis and the Apostolic See, in that the next incumbent is usually a bit different from his predecessor. It is often said—and there is an Italian phrase which puts it very eloquently—that after a fat pope, you get a thin one.

In a few days we will mark the fourth anniversary of the ending of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI’s papacy. His characteristically gentle but radically game-changing resignation set in motion a process of transformation as dramatic as any Time Lord regeneration.

Now, in Pope Francis, we have a pontiff who has a very different style and very different gifts. Perhaps what the recent transition in the papacy has taught us, or given us a salutary reminder of, is that the temperaments and outward appearance of the popes do not ultimately matter, so long as the fidelity to Christ and his Church is intact.

Nestled, almost hidden, in the middle of this past week was the Feast of the Chair of Peter. This is, of course, not the feast of furniture but of the ministry of Peter itself: in its essence, it is an affirmation of the core witness of Peter and his successors to the Lord’s resurrection and the power of his cross.

My Baptist friend Brian was, for some years, himself a fisherman. When we met the other day I admired his shoes (Morris West fans will know where that comes from) and he admired ‘my’ Pope. What we were able to affirm over our nice lattes was a shared sense of purpose in continuity with that fundamental Christian mission: of proclaiming the risen Christ and drawing others into friendship with him.

Of course, there are knotty theological problems which cannot be ‘airbrushed’ out or swept under the carpet, but I am convinced that the challenges of Christian witness must make us all more open to friendship, dialogue and welcome.

The heart of the Christian, like the Tardis, has always been bigger on the inside.