Scottish Catholic Observer

My three days in Rome passed quickly and somewhat coolly: central Europe has been going through an odd patch, weather-wise. Still, apart from one wet and blustery day, the sun shone down in a deep blue sky.

As I’ve mentioned before with regard to priests’ holidays, you’re never entirely ‘away’ from the parish and this was no exception. As I wandered around the imposing ruins of the baths of Caracalla, perhaps familiar to some as the backdrop to the ‘Three Tenors’ concert on the eve of the 1990 World Cup, I received a text from the housekeeper to check if I could do a funeral this Tuesday.

On replying in the affirmative, I soon received another text asking me to put the family’s preferred hymns in the correct order for the Mass booklet. Heading for the exit, I found myself humming Nessun Dorma (‘None Shall Sleep’), Pavarotti’s big ‘hit’ from the Caracalla concert and thinking that, for me at least, ‘No Rest for the Wicked’ would be a better translation. Even though I had only been away a couple of days, I returned to a sizeable ‘to do’ list and another funeral more or less straight away.

I also showed my face at a fundraising race night held in the high school in support of the forthcoming S3 Rome trip which departs this Sunday—and, yes, I get to go away again! It’s a bit odd being in Rome twice in such a short space of time, but, whereas the first jaunt was really all about leisure, the second trip is very much a working holiday. There is so much to cram into the three days we are there: basilicas, museums, catacombs, the Colosseum (above)—not to mention The Hard Rock Café and the Scots College.

I must say that, although it’s very tiring, a school trip is a good way to get to know your students in a different setting. It’s also important for me to see Rome—a place which is really a second home to me—through the eyes of young people who have never set foot there before and who perhaps don’t have much of a sense of the historical or religious significance of what they are looking at.

One thing which all the young pilgrims like to do—apart from consuming burgers in the home of pasta—is bring back souvenirs and holy mementos for the folks back home. Although they tend to be mass-produced and are often at the tackier end of the taste spectrum (why are luminous statues so popular?), the love which these gifts are presented with makes traipsing round the holy shops worthwhile.

Thanks to the kindness of Mgr Tom Monaghan, the priests of the diocese recently received a rather special gift from Rome. Sent by Archbishop Rino Fisichella, president of the Pontifical Council for Promoting the New Evangelisation, Fr Tom had received a number of wax Agnus Dei discs.

A little lesson is needed here: in these days of ecological and environmental awareness, one challenge which every parish would recognise is what to do with the remaining Paschal candle ‘stubs’? For centuries before we ever heard of recycling, the popes used to harvest the unused Paschal candles of Rome and have them melted down, mixed with Chrism and reissued as discs with the imprint of the Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God, pressed into the wax.

The pope would originally bless a batch of these Agni (the plural, though there is only one true Lamb) in the first year of his pontificate and every seven years thereafter. Given the ‘limited edition’ nature of these artefacts, they became treasured gifts to cardinals and visiting dignitaries. The last pope to carry out this ancient tradition was Pope Paul VI in the first year of his reign, back in 1964: thereafter, the custom fell out of use and, as far as I can tell, out of memory. I, for one, had never heard of it.

Happily, Pope Francis resurrected the practice last year during the Year of Mercy and a number of these discs were produced and distributed but with the intention that they should be gifted to those in particular need of consolation, especially the sick. So, when Mgr Monaghan brought this box from the Vatican to the Chrism Mass, we all helped ourselves to a couple each. Those who have received them have been deeply touched by this gesture of closeness to the Holy Father and, of course, to ‘the Lamb who has redeemed the sheep,’ Christ himself.

This left me wondering if we are not missing a trick here: given the number of retired Paschal candles lurking in dusty sacristy corners around the country, could each bishop not consider repurposing the wax for a like purpose? I know the Holy See may have copyright on the Agnus Dei motif, but surely a similar message could be conveyed by another Paschal symbol? I’m sure these tokens of blessing and prayer would be gratefully received. Besides, the combination of Chrism and wax, not to mention the beauty and fragility of what results, is a powerful metaphor for our Christian life.

To be honest, I’ve been thinking in these past few days of another animal associated with the Easter liturgy: not the lamb but the ‘cervus desiderans,’ the deer yearning for running streams. I spent the afternoon of Divine Mercy Sunday dealing with the distressing aftermath of a deer run to ground and savaged by a dog in the grounds of the church (right by the front gate, to be exact).

We frequently get young deer from the neighbouring golf course getting through the fence and into our garden. From what I can gather, this poor thing appears to have been chased along the street before being caught by this dog, one of a breed which is very common in this area. The police and the Scottish SPCA duly attended and the deer—which little short of miraculously was not killed outright and managed to make a kind of short-lived escape—had to be euthanised.

As I had the 5pm evening Mass to celebrate, I left the professionals to their work but my heart was heavy as I donned my vestments. After Mass I had to give a statement to the police and, when I had completed it, the officer asked ‘off the record’ how I felt. My honest answer was that I felt like crying and so indeed I did.

I felt sorry for the deer, sorry for the owner of the dog who, a passionate advocate for this maligned breed, is not an irresponsible type. I felt sorry for the dog too: once prised from his prey and the red mist gone from his eyes, he was very much the pet adored by his Dad. I don’t know what will become of him now, but I fear I know what must be done for everyone’s sake.

That wasn’t quite how I wanted to spend the afternoon and I still haven’t quite overcome that deflated feeling. Maybe the remedy for that ‘feeling like a good greet’ is to go ahead and have one. With providential timing, the credit card bill from my Roman spree has just dropped into my inbox. So, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to get out the tissues.