Going viral LVIII: Whether you are a visitor or a parishioner you are very welcome!

 

A school friend is parish priest of Bodmin, in Cornwall. The parish website says, whether you are a visitor or a parishioner you are very welcome! And it gives a clear description of how Catholic parishes cope with the Virus.

Volunteer Stewards are required for each Mass to ensure sanitising of hands, track and trace forms and other guidelines are kept. This is an important part of our being able to open the church for Mass. Please contact Fr Ciaran or the office 01208 72833 if you are able to help.

Due to the ongoing Covid 19 we have to take great care in the way we come together.

1. There is no obligation to come to Mass
2. If you are in any way unwell or with any underlying condition DO NOT COME.
3. When you come you will have a designated seat at a safe distance from others
4. We ask you to wear a face covering throughout the Mass.
5. The mass will be shorter (no singing).
6. Communion will be at the end of Mass.
7. There will be stewards on duty to help with the new procedures.

It is important to follow the guidelines below:

• Hands will be sanitised on entering the church
• Guidance to your seat will be given
• No kneeling – sitting or standing permitted only
• Communion will be by hand only
• No candles will be available for lighting

Track and Trace

We are obliged to fill out the forms which accompany this letter for each Mass we attend with the time and date of Mass also.  This is an added precaution we are taking in case we are contacted by the Track & Trace system. This would only happen if they are notified of a person who has attended one of our Masses and has gone on to show symptoms.

We have to the best of our ability and Government/Diocese guidelines made Church a safe space for our parishioners to attend.

Fr. Ciarán McGuinness

Saturday Vigil Mass 12noon (This will be recorded and broadcast for those unable to attend mass.)

https://www.facebook.com/bodmincatholicparish/

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_ELipPKOulvnhPQxAgu7NQ/

SUNDAY   9.00am

                10.30am

TUESDAY   10.00AM       ST PETROC SHARED CHURCH, PADSTOW

THURSDAY 10.00AM       ST PAUL THE APOSTLE, TINTAGEL

FRIDAY       10.00AM         ST MICHAEL CHURCH, WADEBRIDGE

Weekday masses Monday, &Wednesday  at St Mary’s Church will be at 10.00am.

The church will close immediately after each Mass.

There will be no washroom facilities

Please note in line with new government    regulations it is now mandatory to wear facial coverings when attending places of worship

You are expected to wear a face covering immediately before entering and it must kept on until you leave.

Our parish priest is Fr Ciaran McGuinness. The presbytery in Bodmin and the parish office are situated in the Parish Centre. If you wish to speak with Fr Ciaran please leave a message and he will return your call.

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6 December: T is for Truro

I’m sorry that the A-Z Tour of Britain has got a bit lost. Yesterday’s post about the local pilgrim must have scratched at the door of my conscience! I was looking for a photo for my piece on Truro in Cornwall when I came across this in a blog called ‘Ship of Fools’. It is part of a report by a mystery worshipper, describing the sermon s/he heard at Truro cathedral, given by the composer James Macmillan on 10/10/10. Forget my effort and read on! WT.

On a scale of 1-10, how good was the preacher?

9 – James Macmillan is a Roman Catholic, a lay Dominican, a musician and composer of note, not a preacher by trade, but he spoke very well and he was talking about the subject that is his passion. It was a privilege to hear him (and his music!). He had been there to deliver a lecture the previous evening, but sadly I didn’t know that. He had, incidentally, composed some of the music used at services during the recent papal visit.

In a nutshell, what was the sermon about?

The gospel reading was Luke 17:11-19 (Jesus heals ten lepers, instructing them to show themselves to the priests). The ten lepers had to show themselves to the priests because the priest could authorise their readmission to the society from which they had been ostracised. But one (a Samaritan, no less) comes back and gives thanks and praise to Jesus on the surface a useless thing to do but Jesus lets him know that it was the right thing to do and wonders why the other nine didn’t bother. The one who gave thanks was more concerned with praising God than with following the prescribed ritual for readmission. Giving praise may baffle the contemporary world because it is perceived to be useless, but when we raise our voices in song it is not about the consequences. The parting of the Red Sea is the prime event in the Old Testament and Jewish history, and out of it comes the Song of Moses. The Song of Songs is the ultimate love song. Sometimes words are not enough. It is love that moves us to sing. The psalms were sung in Old Testament times and the psalter is the original prayer book. Pope Benedict has called music “the sober inebriation of faith”.

Image by Simon Lewis via wikipedia

29 April: Saint Endellion.

I wonder, dare I introduce yet another Celtic Princess and Saint?

Endellion was a sister to Tydfil, the South Wales Martyr; their father was King Brychan of South Wales. It seems there was a family-run mission from Wales to Cornwall – the royal family was as busy then as their descendants are today, but more directly evangelising rather than fostering good works.

Even so, Endellion felt the call to a quieter life, spending more time in prayer as a hermit both in Cornwall near the village which bears her name today, and more remote from humanity, on Lundy Island. She had a cow, whose milk was her principal source of nourishment. I like to think of her making cheese as well as drinking the liquid milk, and sharing cheeses with her sister and brother, Saints Dilic and Nectan, who lived nearby.

Quite a family!

The story is that Endellion was martyred by Saxon pirates and buried on a hill-top, where a church in her name stands to this day. The icon was made by John Coleman in 2005; we were glad to see such a peaceful figure in the church. Her cow is there and the symbol of themartyr’s palm, in view of her death at the hands of heathen men.

The Church hosts many concerts and arts events as well as its regular Anglican worship.

21 November: Inter-Galactic Discoveries XIV, The Sands of the Sea 2

 

One of the things that had early enamoured the delegation’s Director of that strange planet called Earth was the presence of not one, not two, but five major salt water oceans. The Director’s home planet, within the sprawling Ossyrian Confederation, possessed many stunning streams and a few shallow lakes – most of liquefied ammonia but a few world-famous tourist attractions that ran with the mirror-brightness of molten mercury – but these were mainly for aesthetic admiration and nearby inhabitants rarely went in for a paddle or dip. Stunned by the beauty of the opalescent North Sea channel between east Kent and what he reckoned must be northern Belgium, which seemed to change colour with every mood of the capricious sky in an antipodal love affair that would have done justice to any couple – bickering or dewy-eyed – found in the classics of terrestrial literature, he would spend long hours along the shore; hunting for treasures that might litter the sand, or simply staring into the endless blue. And then, while stranded in the sun-drenched daydream called California, he had screwed up his nerve on a particularly sultry day and taken the plunge.

Oh, yes!!  The memory washed over him like the sloppy kiss of a saucy courtesan with impossible emerald-coloured skin as soft as watered silk and gold dust swirling in her eyes. Though she could dance with abandon and even (when out of sorts) be dangerous, the unselfconsciously beautiful Pacific owned a touch that both soothed and tingled, relaxed yet stimulated, all of his weary senses. The Chihuahuas, safely ensconced in England, either with Mrs. Fox in Cornwall or Will Turnstile’s raucous tribe closer to home in Canterbury, were never forgotten as he floated on the soft swells and then, emboldened, body surfed the crashing waves of blue-green foam. No, not forgotten but perspective was regained. As the mystic said long ago, all would be well, all manner of things would be well.

TJH

21 September: Intergalactic Discoveries, IX: California Dreamin’.

 

August 10 came, and with it a beach barbecue. Mrs Fox and the Chihuahuax were there, of course. Ajax worried that in Cornwall it would all be sardines and shellfish, but Larry the chef knew his market and was flipping burgers and bangers on one grill, seafood on the other. Mrs Fox made sure they had a burger and a banger to share, served on shiny new dishes that would keep their food free from sand. A gesture the boys appreciated, as they still preserved some of the daintiness of Ossyrian dining etiquette and loathed the feel of grit on their teeth and tongues.

The Doom Bar and cabernet flowed ever more freely once all had eaten. Ajax and Alfie sidled away behind a dune. Together they emptied their minds and waited for T to contact them. They could only receive T intermittently, as the meteorites that provided distraction for the watchers of the night also interfered with their own thought beams.

T had had a frustrating time. He hawked his neatly typed manifesto for the Ossyrian-Earthling Friendship Pact around the studios but those that let him past the reception desk took him for a would-be script writer and asked to see a fuller treatment of the theme. Hengecliffe Artists arranged a discussion with one of their writers, but after half an hour of his vision of the US Cavalry being zapped by the Ossyrian Gubernatorial Guards, T got up to go. These seemed no point in trying to harness Hollywood. T could take no more.

‘We know how Margate works’, he told Ajax and Alfie. ‘Let’s return to our upstairs room and wait for reinforcements, or another flight home.’

‘What are you waiting for?’ protested Ajax, ‘You’re surfing USA, sucking ice-creams, sipping cold beer… get on that plane!’

‘I can’t go till my booked flight leaves, and don’t forget I hear regularly from Mrs Fox, my friends. You are not doing too badly; ice-cream and doggy treats if not cold beer. It’s a dog’s life, as they say in England. And next week you have a special treat…’

At this point the meteorite shower combined with the midnight barking to white-noise T from the air waves. What was going to happen next week?

WT.

19 September: Intergalactic Discoveries: VII – Go West Young Dog!

The first thing that happened was that Mrs Fox, another of T’s human friends, arrived in her car to take the boys to Cornwall. T thanked Mrs Fox, and silently arranged a telepathic conference with the dogs on August 10, when astronomers would be looking for meteorites and willing to attribute any unusual signals to the asteroid belt.

Ajax and Alfie were anxious at leaving their familiar town, and even more so when Mrs Fox stopped at a motorway service station. Was this their destination? A monument to human craziness: cars, cars, cars, a smell of exhaust, warm metal and hamburger, a far cry from the scientific food in the safe, encapsulated world of Ossyria.

T had sent a big bag of earth’s version of scientific food – ‘A Complete Diet for Your Small Dog – Who could ask for anything more?’ After all those fish and chip suppers on the beach, the boys could! Their new carer put down a bowlful each and plenty of water, while she sat on the grass and passed them morsels of her Cornish Pastie. ‘If her name is Fox, does she understand dogs, do you think?’ asked Alfie.

There was great relief when they were led back to the car, and off to the West. That evening they drew up at a cottage on top of a hill, with the sea at the bottom of it. There was no need to expend energy on telepathy to persuade Mrs Fox to go down there. ‘Maybe we can just sit back and enjoy the next few weeks and forget about observation duties.’ said Ajax. But it was not quite so simple. ‘You can’t be a part-time Ossyrian,’ said Alfie. ‘Just watch Mrs Fox for a start.’

Ajax shuddered. Mrs Fox was very organised, a character trait much in evidence in Ossyria, and not always endearing. ‘Look at you! Your nails need clipping, and I do believe you’ve picked up some little visitors. It’s the vet’s for you tomorrow morning.’