Ahhh……I should explain:
I was born in 1945 – in the Rhondda Valley, South Wales – and raised a Baptist. At the age of fifteen I became a Catholic; and remained one for over fifty years.
Becoming a Catholic paved the way for direct communication with folk who knew their subject far better than I. After all, the only way to learn is from those who are better informed than oneself.
For ten years I was a professed member of the Carmelite Third Order; a secular branch of the Carmelite Order. Members engage in prayer, community, and service, under the guidance of the Carmelite tradition.
In pursuit of a religious vocation, I studied biblical and dogmatic theology; hermeneutics; biblical criticism; canon law, and so on. I had excellent teachers. I was a Thomist, and still have a very high regard for the methodology of Aquinas.
I spent a year with the Carmelite Friars at Hazlewood Castle in Yorkshire (now a hotel); and over a year with the Cistercians (Trappists) at Mount Saint Bernard Abbey in Leicester, testing a vocation (I first visited the Abbey in my early twenties, and knew the community well).
It became clear that life in a religious order was not my calling, and so I became a husband and father (as the Abbey Secretary said to me: ‘Our novitiate is a seedbed of good Catholic marriages!’). I look back at my time with the Carmelites and Cistercians with great affection. Even though I no longer share all their doctrinal beliefs, I admire their spirituality, and their honest convictions; and their way of life – especially that of the Cistercians.’
I inherited my love of books from my paternal grandfather.
He was taken out of school at the age of ten, and set to work in one of the local coalmines (this was unlawful at that time, but who cared?).
Using the local Miners’ Institute – these were centres of learning in those days – he studied (among many other things) both Hebrew and Greek. He was a polymath.
His second great passion – Faith and Family together being his first – was music. Able to play both violin and piano – and to transpose written music into tonic-solfa for those who could not read music – he was appointed Musical Director of the local Amateur Operatic Society. His favourite work was Handel’s Messiah. I can see him now, dressed in his black evening suit, white shirt, black dickie-bow, conducting a full chorus and orchestra, with his white baton; every word, every note engraved in his heart. I have his baton, but none of his talent!
In the 1920’s, a number of Italian families moved into Glamorgan and set up shops and cafes. One of these families (the Bassini’s) settled in my hometown.
When Italy declared war, and joined with Germany, the UK government issued an internment order against those it deemed to be ‘enemy civilians.’ This included the Bassini’s. The husband (I knew him as Jack) was taken away, but his wife and three children were allowed to remain in their home (they had a café and a fish and chip shop, located side-by-side).
One day, my grandfather – returning from work – discovered a mob, hurling abuse (and stones) at the Bassini’s and their home; at people they had once called friends. My grandfather stood between the mob and their target, and told them to stop, and to go home. They did.
Many years later, the family’s eldest daughter (Maria) was accepted as a Carmelite nun; and my grandfather and grandmother were invited to attend the investiture ceremony. A great honour.
My grandfather was an Elder at Blaencwm Chapel (now a pay-as-you-like café!). The Elders employed the Minister.
When I was a teenager, one Minister visited my grandfather’s house. He was treated like royalty. My grandfather called him ‘Sir’. Later, I asked my grandfather why he had called this man ‘Sir’ after all, he was the Minister’s boss!
My grandfather smiled, and said: ‘I’m just an Elder. The Minister speaks the Word!’
When my grandfather died, several hundred men – of all ages – attended his funeral (women did not attend funerals in those days). They filled the cemetery chapel, and many were weeping openly.
My grandfather was able to calm a howling mob – and move the hearts of many – not because of any legal authority (he had none), but because of his character; because of the person he was. He lived his Faith as it was meant to be lived. A Christian would say that he reflected the love of Jesus; and that it was this that made him a shining beacon to others. I would say that he reflected the love of the Beloved. He led by example rather than by argument. My greatest regret is that I was too young – and, when old enough, too immature – to hold long conversations with him, and to fully appreciate the kind of man he was.
He is, by far, the finest man I’ve ever known.
Blessings.
