A white rose for purity, a perfect symbol for Confirmation, if you ask me! Having been instantly converted in Pisa Cathedral by a mighty blow from God's holy sledgehammer in October 2005, I set about becoming a member of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. I had briefly toyed with Catholicism when I was a teenager because I really liked a Catholic boy, but I was SOOO full of questions! Unfortunately, the priest in that particular town didn't happen to like my questions, and kept saying I wasn't supposed to ask this, that, or the other. Needless to say, as a teenager, that totally put me off. My flirtation with Rome ended rather quickly.Thus, decades later, when I metaphorically got hit over the head that day (while sitting in Pisa Cathedral, looking at a glass box containing some of the bones of Saint Guido della Gherardesca), I may have been instantly converted, but I knew virtually nothing about the Catholic Church.
Pisa Cathedral, where it all began...Unlike many other churches, joining the Catholic Church isn't just a matter of turning up and saying "Hi, I want in". There are sanctifying steps to ascend, holy hoops to jump through, in a process that has been ongoing for almost two millennia - hey, it works for me!
When I returned from that first trip to Italy, newly Catholic (in my heart), but knowing NOTHING about the church, I contacted the local priest, Father Mark Impson. I said, "I want to become a Catholic." To his eternal credit, Father Mark came to the house, answered all manner of questions, then referred me to Canon Alastair Doyle, in Elgin, for instruction in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.
Canon Doyle, very patiently, began teaching me. However, about two months later, he was reassigned by the Bishop, from Elgin to Aberdeen. When Father Mark was reassigned to Fraserburgh and Peterhead not long after, I began to wonder what it was about me that was driving priests away! Fortunately for me, at this point, the infinitely wise and wonderfully funny Sister Mary Oliver agreed to take me on. She carried on teaching me until I was forced to stop driving so could no longer get into Elgin for Catechism lessons. Here is a photo of Sarah (we thought for a bit that Sister Oliver wasn't going to let her leave, Sister was so taken with her!), taken by her mum, my Cousin Barbara Anne, with Sister Oliver and some future-Catholic (well, it was taken a year or two ago - Sister hasn't changed a bit!):
Meanwhile, in the midst of all of this, I started going out to Pluscarden Abbey. I had been many times, usually with Chris, but as a "tourist" - now I returned as a pilgrim. On my first visit, at the end of Mass, I went up for a blessing from the priest. When this particular priest lightly placed his hand on the top of my head, the only way I can describe it is to say that I felt as if I had been hugged by God. After Mass, I found out the name of the priest, and wrote him a letter.Imagine getting a letter from a total stranger saying that when you put your hand on her head, she felt she had been hugged by God. I think I would have very discreetly recycled a letter like that and pretended I had never gotten it! Father Martin did not do that. In fact, it just so happened that my letter arrived on Father Martin's "name day". When a person enters a monastery or convent, he or she takes a name, most often not the name with which they were born. Father Martin (born James Birrell), took his name from St. Martin of Tours (a 4th Century Saint. On my favourite saints' website, it describes him as "St Martin of Tours, Italian Soldier, Hermit, Bishop"). Interestingly, to me, St Martin of Tours' day also happens to be the anniversary of my M.S. diagnosis.
Anyway, Farther Martin and I began a friendship that continues to be very important to me. He is a Benedictine monk of Pluscarden Abbey, who was a Diocesan priest (a priest out here in the big bad world), then entered the monastery more than 25 years ago, if I remember correctly. Father Martin has advised and guided me, helping me to understand difficult things, and always treating me with gentle kindness and humour. Here is Father Martin kindly posing with some of the members of his fan club - Barbara Anne, Chris and me - this time Barbara Anne is in the photo and Sarah is the photographer.
Back to the journey...As I said, soon after I arrived on the scene, Father Mark was reassigned by the Bishop, and sent to be shepherd of Fraserburgh and Peterhead. St. Mary's, Fochabers, was then placed in the capable hands of Father Gerry Livingstone, who has bravely managed, thus far, to endure my presence in his parish! Not long after Father Gerry assumed the care of St. Mary's in Fochabers, a wonderful piece of grace brought Monsignor Robert McDonald back to Fochabers. He had been parish priest here at one point, is retired, and now lives in Fochabers, in the wee house attached to the church. He also works harder than many full-time, non-retired men!Between Father Martin, Father Gerry, Monsignor Robert, and Sister Oliver, the Catholic Church and I were gradually prepared for each other! Nearly 3-and-a-half-years after my instantaneous conversion, the time had, at last, come for my reception into Holy Mother Church.
Father Gerry is responsible for several churches, the largest being St. Peter's in Buckie. Adult converts are almost always received into the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil Mass, the night before Easter Sunday. There is an Easter Vigil Mass in Buckie as well as Fochabers, so Father Gerry told me he would not be available to do my Confirmation. St. Padre Pio had the ability to bi-locate (be in two places at the same time) but clearly Father Gerry has not yet mastered this, so my Confirmation was delegated to Monsignor Robert.
Of course, my life never being that simple, on Palm Sunday I was told by Monsignor Robert that he wouldn't be able to do my Confirmation after all. For a brief second of blind panic I feared I'd be left waiting another year. Fear not, Canon Doyle, having returned from the wilds of Aberdeen, is now in Buckie, and he agreed to bring me into the Church. Whew! As Canon Doyle was the first person to give me instruction in the faith of the Catholic Church, having him celebrate my Confirmation seems very, I don't know...tidy - a perfect circle.
Saturday the 11th of April, the great day, arrived, and as no one had phoned to tell me the Bishop refused to let me in, Chris took me to the Easter Vigil Mass, which was at 7p.m. Alice, my sponsor, her husband, Danny, and Sister Oliver were already there (can you believe I was too nervous and preoccupied to get a photo of them?!). I had a wee word with Canon Doyle, to make sure I knew what to do, then returned to my seat. My friends Fiona and Stephen (he gave me the beautiful white rose pictured at the beginning of this post) were there by now, loitering at the back in case they needed to escape! Below, see me, newly Catholocised, with Stephen and Fiona. As Fiona is of Northern Irish Protestant stock, I wasn't sure if she would be allowed to have her photo taken with me, especially flashing such a big, bonny smile!
Mass began...At the appropriate time, Canon Doyle called me forward with Alice, my Sponsor. Canon Doyle Confirmed me as "Beth Rose", which was unexpected, and I thought quite lovely. My Confirmation/Patron Saint is Elisabeth Rose, a 12th-Century French Benedictine nun who, having founded a convent, ended her days living alone, as an anchoress, never leaving a hollow oak tree! I love that! The thought of being a hermit sometimes really appeals to me, though not in a tree, hollow or otherwise! St. Elisabeth Rose died in about 1130, and her memorial day is 13 December.Interestingly, to me anyway, I just discovered that Saint Guido della Gherardesca, the saint whose sacred bones I was looking at when God walloped me upside the head, was also a hermit. I have looked for information about him for years, and finally, just recently, found this: Saint Guido della Gherardesca, lived as a hermit in the lands of Donoratico, and died in 1140. Saint Guido reposes in the transept of the Cathedral of Pisa, at the Field of Miracles. That's him alright! What is it with me and hermits...even Father Martin's patron Saint, Martin of Tours was a hermit for a time!
The Confirmation ceremony was lovely. I had to affirm my faith by reading the "Nicene Creed", which I managed to do, both holding the book, and standing with my elbow crutches without falling over - miracles still happen! Canon Doyle then anointed me with holy oil by making the sign of the cross on my forehead with his thumb. Alice had to stand with her hand on my shoulder, to show that she was my Sponsor. I guess if I go off the rails, she's in BIG trouble! For a wee second, Canon Doyle took my face in his hand, in a beautiful fatherly gesture, he welcomed me into full Communion with Rome, we shook hands and I returned to my seat - Catholic from the top of my head to the tips of my toes!
Below is a photo of Canon Alastair Doyle with St. Mary's newest parishioner.
Having survived the longest Mass of the year, Chris, most excellent and beloved of husbands, is pictured with me in front of the altar. By the way, he also went with me on Easter Sunday! Talk about a hero!
By the way, if I am Roman Catholic, does that make me a Latina?After Mass, a queue of people formed. So many people came up to me and kissed me, hugged me or shook my hand, and welcomed me. I have been attending St. Mary's for over 3 years, so it never occurred to me what a BIG deal my being Confirmed and becoming officially part of the parish would mean to others.
It's not like I wasn't told this, but you know me - selectively deaf when I want something! Father Gerry had told me the importance of coming into the Church at the Easter Vigil when I asked if I could be brought into the Church quietly, before Easter (that's me, patient as ever!). Father Gerry also said something along the lines of "Oh no you don't! The Easter Vigil is the biggest party in the world every year, and your coming into the Church then will make you part of it." He's the boss, so I didn't argue (even though I wanted to!), but I TOTALLY get it now!
We returned to the house (Chris and me, Alice, Danny and Sister Oliver, Fiona and Stephen, plus Maria and John from church - Maria also lives next door), where copious amounts of tea and cake were consumed. The cake, both beautiful and delicious, was provided by Alice. She and Danny were complete megastars. Aside from Alice being my Sponsor, providing the cake and showering me with gifts, she and Danny helped Chris get everything for everyone, while I sat there, playing Queen Beth, and getting waited on hand and foot, while people gave me presents and cards. BIG fun!
By the way, some of the more eagle-eyed among you may notice that the date on the cake is the 12th, though my Confirmation was on the evening of the 11th. This is because the Saturday Vigil Mass is considered part of the Sunday - the day starting at sunset the night before, that sort of thing (badly explained, but you get the idea). Some of the Confirmation cards I received also had the 12th written on them, and that is why. Easter Sunday was 12th April, but the Saturday Vigil Mass on the 11th was part of it.
On Sunday morning, Easter Sunday, I got to do this again! This time, Father Gerry and Monsignor Robert were there - hooray!
Now, the children had go off to do their thing during the first part of Mass, then return before Communion. This week, one of them was carrying a big picture. They often make things to help make learning more fun. On Easter Sunday they made this:
As always, Father Gerry talked with the children about what they had been doing. He asked them about the picture.Silly me, I thought that, as they had been discussing the resurrection, this was a picture of Jesus with Mary Magdalene, who found Him. I was right about the resurrection part. "Who is that with Jesus?" Father Gerry asked the children. "Beth," they said!
"Beth?" asked Father Gerry,"Why is she looking so happy?" Apparently, that was me, there with Jesus, holding a yellow balloon, really happy because I had come into the Church! Well, talk about feeling loved, AND embarrassed. Father Gerry clearly decided I wasn't nearly embarrassed enough, so had everyone give me a big round of applause. Some of the children kept stealing wee glances at me. There were 8-10 children there that day, ranging in age from about 2 up to 12 - SO precious! I wanted to hug ALL of them!
After Mass, in honour of Easter Sunday, and my coming into the church, we had tea and biscuits, and I got more congratulations - how lucky can a girl get?!
Writing about this beings it all back. What an amazing weekend! Coming into the Catholic Church took me almost 3-and-a-half-years - it was SO worth the wait!
