Where To From Here?

by Ursula Paul

  Once again his family gathered at Kingsford Smith to welcome him home. This time they were joined by Eddie, Simon and Joe, all given special leave for the occasion.

  Chapter Five

  Parish life about to begin, thought Julian as he reached the front door of the Archbishop’s house.

  “Welcome back Julian,” declared the smiling archbishop. “Congratulations. You certainly have done well – splendid results! We are all very proud of you.”

  “Thank you Archbishop.”

  “Time to drop formalities,” smiled the archbishop. “My name is Bernard.”

  “Thanks, Bernard,” Julian smiled back.

  “Sit down – refreshments on the way.” As though on cue he pointed to the tray at his side.

  Over tea and scones Julian was advised of the archbishop’s plans for him.

  “Nothing set in concrete, mind you,” commented the archbishop. “We’re open to any changes.”

  “Thank you, Bernard. It’s just about how I envisaged my duties would be. I will contact you if changes need to be made.”

  Conversation followed on general diocesan news.

  Half an hour later in his car, Julian headed home. There had been no surprises in the archbishop’s plans for him – three days in the Canon Law section of the diocesan office building. The remainder of the week, apart from his ‘free’ day as the archbishop had noted, he would be involved in parish ministry. No surprises! All this to commence in ten days. After all these years of study, his life as a parish priest was about to begin.

  Yet the beginning to Julian’s ministry was different from that of his three friends. Hopes and dreams for the future following Vatican II were quite prevalent for them as they began their lives as pastors. They were aware of mixed feelings among the minority of their elders. But, on the whole new ideas were sparking new life. Communication from his friends during his studies in Rome were always received with great pleasure and interest. He could almost feel the excitement in their letters. Yes, he thought, there is hope and talk of change. But during his life as a student in Rome there was no indication that the hopes back in Australia would be fulfilled. He had looked forward to returning home for many reasons, one being to see the Church, in some ways, returning to its roots.

  Now home and at last beginning his pastoral life, Humanae Vita had sent the Church into a spin. The declaration came as a surprise to many.

  Yes, he thought, my introduction to parish life is rather different to that of my mates.

  It was obvious that the laity were certainly divided. And it was also obvious that some had begun to walk away – a situation that had never been witnessed before on this scale.

  Julian thought deeply on the debate from the viewpoints of a canon lawyer, a priest and as a human being and prayed for wisdom. “Informed conscience” became a common topic for debate. How many times in the years ahead would his advice be sought on this question.

  As his early years in ministry rolled on, it became so clear that the ‘black and white’ of Pre-Vatican years had changed. Doctrine remained untouched, but various shades of grey now appeared in many traditions.

  Balancing his life in pastoral ministry and canon law presented challenges at first. But, soon he had it under control. Sometimes both areas overlapped. But generally he organized his day according to where he was scheduled. Brief home visits were always a happy and relaxing time. The special family excitement during that first year centred around the birth of Meg and Tom’s first child. The Baptism, weeks later, was an occasion of family celebration and of special significance to Julian as the celebrant.

  A couple of times during the year the four friends had made time to meet – time to share experiences and reaffirm each other in their commitments. A time, too, for solidifying comradeship.

  Chapter Six

  His second year home had barely begun when Julian received a phone call from his bishop, asking him to call at a convenient time.

  “No hurry – and no worry!” Bishop Bernard added.

  As he arrived for the appointed meeting a week later memories of former visits surfaced.

  This has got to be different, he thought. Just how different he was soon to learn!

  After the usual greetings and comments, Bernard began, “Julian, I have another favour to ask of you.” Then adding with a smile, “You will be wary of me.”

  Becoming serious, he continued, “Once again I want you to feel free to decline what I am suggesting. I will not think any less of you if you decide that way. I need someone for a specific purpose and immediately thought of you. But I assure you – I want you to decline if that’s the way you feel.”

  “Shoot!” answered Julian.

  “You may have heard rumours. But we have managed to keep the situation under control – that is until recently. I speak of Father George and his parish.”

  Julian nodded.

  “George has had a drinking problem for many years,” Bernard continued. “But it has escalated in the past year. And now has come to the point that we can no longer ignore it. As you know, George has only a couple of years to compulsory retirement age. I suggested he retire early, but he won’t hear of it. As I said, up until recently he managed to hide his problem to a great extent. But now it is becoming obvious to many of his parishioners. Some mornings he misses out on morning Mass. He often runs late for parish meetings, times of which he has set, or doesn’t turn up at all. So, Julian, as you have probably guessed, I’m asking you to move to George’s parish.

  “Not to become parish priest or take over,” he continued. “Mainly to keep an eye on things. It’s a very small parish, as you know, and will eventually merge into the adjoining one. I don’t think it fair to turf George out at this stage of his life.”

  “I agree!” interrupted Julian.

  “Good! As you know, he came out from Ireland just after ordination – full of life then, I’ve been told. His parents died shortly after. His two brothers kept contact for a few years. He has had no contact with family over there for many, many years. He had a couple of trips home to Ireland earlier, but none for a very long time. Most of the friends he had here – and apparently he was quite a popular man for many years – have either died or been ‘frozen’ out of his life.”

  “So, what – if I agree – (he added with a smile) do you want me to do?”

  “That may have to adapt with circumstances! My hope was that you – or someone – would be accepted by George as his assistant. This assistant would probably be responsible for the weekday Masses – and perhaps one or both of the weekend Masses. There are only two – one Saturday evening and one Sunday morning. I’m not sure how many, but there are a few committees; hence few meetings.” He paused, then added, “And perhaps the situation is worse than we have seen.”

  “When would the new man begin?” asked Julian.

  “As soon as possible. But doesn’t have to be immediately… Would you like to think about it?”

  “No!”

  “Oh!”

  Julian laughed. “It’s okay, Bernard. I didn’t mean ‘no! I won’t go’! I meant ‘no, I don’t need time to think about it.’ Yes, I’ll go. When? Oh, and please let George know in plenty of time so I’ll be allowed in!”

  “Julian, thank you! You have no idea how grateful I am. Certainly greatly relieved. But please let me know if you come across any unsolvable problems.”

  “Sure will!”

  After discussion, Bernard suggested he would have a long talk with George the next week and Julian would move in the following week.

  Chapter Seven

  As Julian knocked on the front door he became aware of an inner feeling of apprehension.

  The little stone building had experienced the summers and winters of many years. The little Church next door, also a stone structure, showed signs of wear inside and out.

  No answer came to his first knock. He knocked again. Minutes later the door opened.

  “Hi Father,” Julian smiled.
“I’m Julian.”

  “Hmph!” was the retort. “You’re not welcome. But you’d better come in.”

  “Thanks, Father.” In spite of the unwelcoming invitation, Julian determined to stay cheerful.

  His first impression of his new parish priest was one of surprise. Julian had envisaged a bent, old man. The man facing him was old, yes, but very tall – at least two inches taller than Julian who regarded himself as being reasonably tall. Not only did George stand tall but he also stood straight. Greying hair that had once been red framed his face that gave away his secret. His face blotchy and swollen and the redness of his eyes shadowing deep blue pupils silently shouted his problem.

  “I suppose you’d like a cup of something!”

  “Yes, thanks.” At least he’s offering, even though begrudgingly, Julian thought.

  The kitchen proved tidier than Julian had expected. As though reading Julian’s thoughts,

  George noted gruffly, “Housekeeper – Mrs Watson – comes twice a week, tidies up, cooks enough for a few days.” Then added, “You’ll find anything you want here. Your room’s down the hall – the room with the door open next to the bathroom. I’ve things to do. My door will be closed. I will see you for dinner at six.”

  With that he was gone and Julian was left to find his way around the kitchen. Later, he also found his way around his room – sparsely furnished – bed, desk and wardrobe. Prior to the proposed dinner time, Julian looked over the rest of the house – apart from the room with the closed door – the garden and, finally, the Church where his mind wandered from thoughts to prayer and he finally read his Office.

  When Julian returned to the house and entered the kitchen he found George already there and a casserole warming in the oven.

  “Are you one of the fussy new clerics who must have his dinner served in the dining room?” he greeted Julian.

  “No, thanks. Anywhere is fine with me.”

  “Then we’ll have it at the kitchen table.” Then he added, “Here – a stubby. If you want it in a glass, plenty in the dining room.”

  “No. This is fine,” Julian answered.

  Over dinner, Julian was given a few ideas on how he, as the curate, should operate.

  For the first week Julian celebrated each morning Mass before he attended the Tribunal or to parish work. Each evening when he arrived in the kitchen at the prescribed time, he would find George there. He was always aware that, by that time, George had consumed more alcohol that was healthy and the night lay ahead.

  The first weekend, George advised Julian that he would celebrate the vigil Mass and the Sunday morning’s was Julian’s.

  “What about Baptisms?” Julian asked.

  “Don’t have any. They go to the next parish,” was the answer.

  The first few weeks passed smoothly enough. George became a little more talkative over dinner. Julian encouraged him, hoping he would find an inroad to finding him the help he needed.

  One night Julian asked, “Why don’t you take a trip home to Ireland? Catch up with family and friends.”

  “No!” George almost shouted. “No one there any more. Anyway, I’m too old now!”

  As weeks passed Julian encouraged George to recall parts of his childhood, to talk about the Ireland he knew many years before. In those times his eyes would light up as though he were back in those days. Some evenings he became so engrossed in his memories that they would still be seated at the kitchen table long after their meal. On those nights Julian knew he should be studying the reports he had brought home. But he also knew where his priorities lay.

  He had been there over six months when, on coming home one evening, he found the place in darkness. No dinner heating in the oven! No sign of George! Julian quickly ran from room to room – even George’s room. No one in any room!

  Julian became worried. This was out of character for George. He never went out. The only place he went!… Julian ran… ran to the Church and switched on the lights. There was George, slumped over one of the pews.

  Hours later, after the rushed ambulance trip to the hospital, the many tests, and Julian administering the Sacrament of the Sick, George was pronounced to be seriously but not gravely ill. He had had a heart attack. Bishop Bernard, who had come immediately, and Julian were advised that George would recover. But doctors strongly advised that he retire.

  Although George fought it, the decision was made for him. When well enough, he was sent to a retirement village. At the same time counselling was provided, not only for his problem with alcohol but also for the massive change in his life.

  The parish was taken over by the neighbouring one and Julian returned to where he had been prior to the bishop’s request. Periodically he visited George in the retirement home.

  He never complained but Julian sensed that the feeling of loss, that he had felt on his first meeting with him, was still living in George.

  Two years later Julian answered the call from the nursing home and administered the last Rites as George quietly left behind the unfulfilled hopes of his youth.

  Chapter Eight

  Back in his parish, Julian’s life sailed on. Tides of his life as priest and canon lawyer were seldom calm.

  Long before the time, the four friends had planned to meet to celebrate – just for a day – their fifth anniversary. It has to be on Manly beach, they all agreed.

  Julian and Simon arrived at the appointed meeting place – the top flag – almost simultaneously. Shortly after, Eddie joined them. As per custom, Joe ran down to them minutes later. “Five minutes late this time!” the others chorused.

  So much to share in so little time. Firstly, they all agreed, let’s try the surf!

  Although the beginning of Autumn the day smiled on them. The warmth of the sun penetrated the filmy clouds. The waves rose and fell majestically, rhythmically.

  For the four friends, in some ways this enjoyable day was a carbon copy of their day here five years before. But – not quite! Some of their aspirations of that day had come to fruition; yet some of their prior hopes for the future had been dashed.

  With a late afternoon breeze blowing up and darkening clouds rolling in, it was time, they agreed, to leave the beach. Once seated at a corner table at the Steyne, talk flowed:

  “Great to catch up!”

  “Life in a parish so different!”

  “The seminary never taught…!”

  “Humanae Vitae!!”

  “Schools…”

  “Nursing Homes…”

  “Life is pretty hard for some people…”

  “Great boss…”

  “Lucky you…!”

  “How would you handle this situation…?”

  “Great to have the Liturgy in English!”

  “Sure is!”

  “Surely Rome will see reason…!”

  Anecdotes flowed regarding so many personal and parish incidents. Family news was also prevalent. An outsider may have perhaps envied the apparent joy in living of these four happy young men as they talked and laughed together. Yet, no one – not even one of the friends – could see the questions simmering for answers in the subconscious of one of them. It would take another couple of years before he was fully aware himself.

  They parted with the usual scrum hug and prayer.

  “Let’s make this every couple of years,” suggested Simon.

  “Could be other odd times, too,” Eddie added. “Like special family celebrations.”

  “Great idea,” they agreed.

  Chapter Nine

  Julian gently kicked the sand as he wandered along Manly Beach. Only seven years earlier he and his friends had celebrated in this very place the beginning of the new chapter in their lives. Seven years! It seemed a century ago. How free and uninhibited of worries had the four of them been that day. How they all had looked forward with great expectations to the life ahead of them! All the hopes – and sometimes dreams – had they all faded?

  He dropped to the sand. With his legs cradled
he gazed ahead. Immediately he was aware of the beauty of nature. The azure sea, bubbling, shimmering in the sun’s reflection. The lacy clouds, slowly dancing to the tune of the gentle breeze. The cliffs in the distant, stark, nature’s guardian of the bay.

  Yes, Lord, You have made a beautiful world, he whispered.

  So what’s wrong with me? This time he addressed himself. He knew that he had achieved more than excellent results in Rome. He knew he had enjoyed the experience. He knew now life as an assistant priest in a parish was challenging in some respects, but rewarding in others. He queried some of the Church’s tradition, but accepted doctrine readily. So, why this inner battle! And what was he battling? An unknown assailant or an unknown reason for battle? Either way, the odds favoured a battle lost.

  I’m getting nowhere, he thought to himself. Just going over and over the past, looking for an answer. And there seems to be no answer.

  The news helicopter, flying low over the beach, brought him back to the present. The sea called and soon he was in battle, no longer with his thoughts but with the heavy pounding waves. It was a short but invigorating and enjoyable experience. But, tempus fugit, he soon told himself. He was never late for an appointment and today would be no exception.

  A quick towelling and he was in his car heading for his office.

  As he drove he thought of his friends and the latest he had heard from each. Part of Eddie’s pastoral work seemed to be tuned into Aboriginal spirituality; Simon was experiencing life as a hospital chaplain; much of Joe’s time was given to youth ministry.

  They all seemed busy, yet happy in their chosen vocations and where their ministries had taken them. As far as he could see, each had found fulfilment in his chosen life; each faced hurdles and problems but each was happy in himself and his life. He smiled as he envisaged each right then – perhaps in a happy situation, perhaps in a questioning situation. But, either way, each was content in himself that this was the appropriate life for him.