Scottish Catholic Observer

Last weekend, the priests of this area of the deanery issued a pastoral letter to our people, outlining the rationale for a reduced summer Mass schedule. While parishes—and indeed whole dioceses—around the country have long become accustomed to clustering churches and services, this is the first time such a wide-scale operation has been attempted in Paisley Diocese.

Given that it is a novelty for us and that there is a need for collective responsibility, it was agreed that every parish would have to take a ‘hit’ and suspend a Mass from their schedule (in fact, one parish has suspended two of theirs).

At first, I feared the negotiations would make the imminent Brexit talks look like a walk in the park and I had even steeled myself for a hard ‘Jexit,’ ­withdrawing St Joe’s from the scheme altogether. But, thanks to careful diplomacy and regular infusions of caffeine, a deal was hammered out.

For the seven weekends of the school holidays, I will be ­suspending my 5pm Sunday Mass. There are still Masses available in neighbouring parishes at 6pm and 7pm, but I know that not everyone will be happy with this arrangement.

To be fair, though, I was expecting more grumbles as I stood outside after breaking the news to the evening Mass-goers who will be directly affected by this arrangement. I hope that’s because people realise that we do have to start living within our means in terms of what our priests are expected to do.

It also helped that the letter was published on the solemnity of Corpus Christi, so I was able to sound a bit like our parents when they would remind us of the starving children in Africa as we refused to eat our broccoli: there are people in parts of the world where a Mass is a once-a-year occasion. And here we are in our end of the deanery, with seven parishes cheek-by-jowl, working ourselves into a sweat over reducing 21 weekend Masses to a measly 14.

Our brothers and sisters in areas affected by Eucharistic rationing would consider us very spoiled indeed.

It’s true that our parish may well also suffer financially from the lost collection (for a start, I’ll probably have to put the patio hot tub back on the wish list for next year) but I reckon this will be worth it in the long run.

After all, the health of our parishes isn’t just determined by our bank balances.

As we approach ordination season and, Deo gratias, our diocese will have another new priest this year, it’s also important to remember that we have to allow our priests to enjoy being priests. This wise observation was made at the deanery meeting by Canon Des Berry and he is absolutely right.

If our priests are run ragged (and even our reduced Mass schedule is intended to facilitate us covering each other’s Masses), then how effective will our ministry be?

If we look red-faced and ­flustered, as though we’re on an out of control treadmill, what signal does that send out? How likely is it that younger men, if not already put off by the bad press the priesthood has received of late, would step up to join the ranks of those who look like they’d punch the next person who rang their doorbell?

If you dig a little into most personal vocation stories, you will almost always find the influence of a priest who was joyful, prayerful, busy about the parish but not under the cosh.

And it’s not just the priest who suffers from being over-stretched. If he doesn’t have time in his day for prayer and study (yes, study!) then his ­people will end up with the most meagre of rations: reheated ­sermons, stale routines, an abruptness or aloofness which desperately tries to mask the fact you’re running on empty.

Elsewhere, parish life rolls on, although the approach of the end of term makes for a definite buzz around the schools. St Columba’s has its school show, Bugsy Malone, this week and I must say it will be the first time I’ve seen it.

I know that a lot of hard work has gone into it and the music department have been producing some fantastic stuff of late.

St Joseph’s has its award ceremony on Friday. It’s a ­bittersweet moment when the P7 leavers are presented with their new ties for their transfer to the secondary after the summer.

In truth, they’ve been a bit demob happy for a while and some clearly feel they’re ‘too cool’ for this particular school, but you can tell, as they watch a slideshow of their years in St Joseph’s, that a bit of them would settle for the ­security of a P8.

Jasmine turned four on Tuesday. Like Her Majesty, she spent it quietly, with only the occasional noisy outburst when her treat ball required to be replenished. I guess she’s approaching her late 20s in human years, so I’m half expecting her to try to get a paw on the property ladder in the near future.

Sadly, if she’s coming to the Bank of Dad for help, I’ll have to explain the financial impact dropping that 5pm Mass has had on all of us. She’ll have to make do with that duvet under the desk in the spare room for another wee while.

Today, Friday, is one of my favourite feasts and, in a sense, is the spiritual focus of the month of June: the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart. The devotion as we have it today essentially derives from the revelations given to St Margaret Mary.

Among the many delightful features of her life story, I am particularly fond of this vignette, which I refer to occasionally in the confessional.

Not a little disturbed by the visions she had been having, Sr Margaret Mary sought the counsel of a wise priest, Fr (later a saint) Claude de la Colombière.

Now he, like all good spiritual directors, was of the view that these ‘revelations’ would be just as likely the fruit of an ­­over-active imagination or, worse still, a ploy of the devil.

He gave her a list of questions to put to the man in the visions and, to his surprise, they were all answered correctly.

Still not wanting to be ­hoodwinked, he gave her a final question: “Ask him what sins you confessed to yesterday.” When she returned, she replied that Jesus did not know. “I have forgotten,” He had said. That was enough to convince the shrewd Fr Claude that Sr Margaret Mary was telling the truth.

I find that episode lovely and profound, in equal measure. It goes to the heart, literally, of the Divine Mercy which the Church has been rediscovering of late—not least in the Year of Mercy not long ended.

If the Sacred Heart teaches us anything, it is that Jesus is all love. And love, as St Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 13:5, keeps no record of wrongs. What is confessed is obliterated, erased, forgotten.

Devotion to the Sacred Heart is a beautiful reminder that our Faith is essentially about the God who loves us and wants to share his life with us. And that’s precisely what our priests are doing each day: bearing witness to that love, and expressing it in Sacrament, word, deed.

Speaking of the Sacred Heart, I mustn’t sign off without ­saluting the Pioneer Total ­Abstinence Association.

Two of our parishioners, Maud and Helen, received gold pins for 50 years membership of the Pioneers.

I must say I admire their resolve. A few days ago, when I came off my week on-call for the hospital, I was sorely tempted to celebrate my ­emancipation with a stiff gin as soon as the phone was off to its next keeper.

My housekeeper wrested the small batch juniper cordial from my hands, asserting that it was a bit too early for a ‘sun-downer.’ She was deaf to my protestations that the sun is always going down somewhere. Probably for the best, mind you.