In the Metropolitan Cathedral of Christ the King the flock sat huddled around the altar excitedly whispering to each other.
I leant against a pillar in the shadows at the back surveying many lilac perms and sky blue wimples.
Women, en masse.
Awaiting the remains of St Therese, a huge event for the Catholic Church in the UK.
The anticipation and expectation was catching.
My eyes swam as a choir of claret clothed girls sang ‘Stella Maris’ so sweetly, welcoming in The Little Flower.
A priest in Prada specs paused just in front of me, stooping to his fuschia’d bishop he whispered:
“No, no I won’t open a confession now, I’ll never get out of there if I do.”
He winked and I pushed my way out through the affected and the afflicted buying bookmarks and mugs.
Hmmm…all the more reason to have confessionals open. This is a selfish priest. Prada specs? A little extravagant, though they’re not so much more than what I buy-$75US for mine vs $300 for his…but when you don’t pay rent or food, it’s easier on a priest’s salary…the rest? unremarkable.
By: David on September 24, 2009
at 10:49 pm