The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Saturday, September 30, 2017

building jerusalem

Chatting with Farmer Jones.
"Where did you go when we went into the church?" quoth me.
"I didn't want to sit near you," answereth he.
"Why not?"
"To be honest, it's all that hand waving and Hallelujah-ing you do. You should stop that."
The noble Heelers found himself a bit nonplussed.
"Seriously?" sez me.
"I hope you don't mind me telling you," sez he.
"No, no, be frank."
"You're doing too much of it. It's drawing attention to yourself. It's like you're saying: Look at me everybody. What are you trying to prove? Do you think you're better than everyone else? Give it a rest. It's all too over the top. It's like you're putting on a production."
"Okay, you can stop being frank now."
Later that evening, in a state of some bemusement (Ireland), I betook myself to the house of Uncle Scutch.
I told him what the agricoleur had told me.
Uncle Scutch said: "He's right."
I was stunned.
Under the weight of a grand mal I exploded: "He's right?"
"Yes, he's right. What do you think you're doing?"
"Showing joy. The Catholic church is a joyful place. A house of worship. Our Father's house. It's where we celebrate. Or did Fine Gael pass a law? Is joy a crime now? Did some fembo declare that joy makes her feel inadequate? Heavens to Murgatroyd. I can't believe you'd be against praising God whatever way the Spirit led."
"You're the only one doing it."
"No I'm not. You want to see African Catholics. They go absolutely nuts."
"You're the only one doing it in Kilcullen."
"Our Protestant brothers and sisters do it."
"I've never seen a Protestant do it."
"I don't mean the ould hare baither abortionist Prods you'd be hanging out with. I mean ones that actually believe in God."
"And where do you see those?"
"Er, in America, on TV."
"We're not ready for it James."
"Not ready for joy? Not ready to pray with a full heart? Not ready to jejoice in the lamb?"
"Let me put it this way. You're a little bit ahead of us. A little bit too far ahead of us."
"But isn't our church dedicated to welcoming all God's family. Isn't that what the Catholic church is? Aren't we all a family? Expressive ones. Quiet ones. Soulful ones. Noisy ones. Silent ones. Young ones. Old ones. Single people. Families. Singers. Orators. Mystics. Lads who wave their hands and give plenty of welly to the Hosannahs."
"Not yet. It's too soon."
"But I've been doing it for years."
"I was hoping someone would tell you eventually."
Long after midnight I betook myself to a neighbour's house.
The neighbour is a bit of a sage.
I recounted the advice of the other two.
The sage scratched his head thoughtfully and said:
"Well I was with you in church a couple of weeks ago. And I did wonder. I'm not saying anything against what you did. But I was wondering."
"You were wondering what?"
"I was wondering: Are people going to think he's with me!"
As we chatted I flicked through the channels on the sexevision.
I alighted on a Christian preacher's channel.
The preacher was saying: "When my wife and I set up this channel, we were both in our early twenties. One of the most respected pastors in America came to visit us. And afterwards he told someone: There's no way those two kids will be able to run a television station. He was a holy man. A good man. And here we are decades later broadcasting around the world. I say to you: If you have a word from God, and even if holy men tell you not to do it, you keep listening to God. You hold on to that word."


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