New Year lessons and ghosts

It was with joy—and a tinge of sadness—says a resident of Talayan, that neighbors reacted to the column in this space on the pastor’s decision to ban the holding of the Christmas Eve Mass in their chapel, along with other chapels in the area. (I understand this stems in part from an edict issued by Pope Benedict XVI, decreeing the “centralization” of Masses on important Church occasions.)

One neighbor, says the resident, wept upon reading the column. “She could not fathom how the media could be so articulate in addressing her pain. She had so much kin—eight families—who were supposed to join that Mass.”

Priests in the parish, however, have taken a radically different view. “They have taken to lambasting the people of Talayan… [with parish priest] Fr. Dionisio, together with eight priest concelebrants, [saying] ’Me  pa-peryodiko-peryodiko  pa  ang  mga  taga-Talayan (the people of Talayan have even resorted to using the media).”

From then on, says the resident, “the central theme of their homilies [was on] the  mayayaman  ng  Talayan (the rich folk of Talayan).”

Well, it’s one thing for the priests of San Pedro Bautista to heap disdain on the folks “hurting” from the ruling, but entirely another thing to foment a class war among the parishioners!

* * *

DOESN’T this tempest in a parish strike you as anachronistic in the Age of Francis?

Couldn’t the pastor have done a better job explaining the reason for the decision, and taking pains to listen to the views of parishioners? Couldn’t he have taken some pointers from the new pontiff?

Speaking to ABC’s George Stephanopoulos, New York’s Cardinal Timothy Dolan explained the “Francis Effect” thus: “This Pope has successfully, finally shattered the caricature of the church that his predecessors have tried to do. What’s that caricature? That the church is kind of mean and dour and always saying no and always telling us what we can’t do and always telling us why we should be excluded. He’s saying ‘Oh no, come on in, the church is about warmth and tenderness.’”

“Warmth and tenderness,” take note, which would be the last thing we can say about the behavior of the pastors of San Pedro Bautista, who instead of consulting the people, chose to ram through their decision; instead of understanding their hurt feelings, pour vinegar on their raw feelings; instead of seeking conciliation, create tension and turmoil.

* * *

HERE’S A New Year’s gift from me to you, by way of Delancey Place, a website for book lovers who also happen to subscribe to the New York Times’ online edition.

It’s an excerpt from “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, that beloved novel on the perils of human greed and indifference. Most of us may be familiar with the general outline, but reading Dickens’ actual words makes the material fresh and powerful.

In this excerpt, Scrooge has already been visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present, and is now being escorted by a third Ghost to a graveyard where he will learn the identity of a dead man whose visage he refused to glimpse:

Scrooge joined the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come once again, and wondering why and whither he had gone, accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round before entering.

A churchyard. Here, then, the wretched man whose name he had now to learn, lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy place. Walled in by houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation’s death, not life; choked up with too much burying; fat with repleted appetite. A worthy place!

The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One. He advanced towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.

“Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point,” said Scrooge, “answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that may be, only?”

Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.

“Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said Scrooge. “But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me.”

The Spirit was immovable as ever.

* * *

SCROOGE crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name, EBENEZER SCROOGE.

“Am I that man who lay upon the bed?” he cried, upon his knees.

The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.

“No, Spirit! Oh no, no!”

The finger still was there.

“Spirit!” he cried, tight clutching at its robe, “hear me. I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?”

For the first time the hand appeared to shake.

“Good Spirit,” he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it: “Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life.”

The kind hand trembled.

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him.

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate aye reversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom’s hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.