As well as being a Catenian in good standing with my local circle, I am also privileged to be the founder and Life Grand Master of a smaller Catholic association: the Guild of St Theodosius the Cenobiarch. As you all know, St Theodosius is world-famous as a leading light of fifth-century monasticism in the Holy Land. I founded the Guild on 1972 but, sadly, membership is still small. There is, of course, myself, with one other potential member and two potential handmaidens. It would be the function of the handmaidens to strew rose-petals in front of the statue or banner of St Theodosius during our annual procession. Sad to say, this procession has not yet taken place, partly because we possess neither statue nor banner, neither icon nor holy picture of the saint and partly because his feast day in on January 11, when rose-petals are in short supply.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
What I do manage to do is to attend Mass on the Sunday nearest to the feast in the only church in Britain actually dedicated to St Theodosius the Cenobiarch. This is the village of Little Sleepfold, high in the Pennines. Little Sleepfold is very out of the way, right on the border between Lancashire and Yorkshire. Indeed, successive governments have been unable to decide with any show of conviction which county can claim the loyalty of the village and its people. Nor is the Church any more decisive. It is not clear to me or anyone else whether the parish lies in the diocese of Leeds of the diocese of Lancaster.\u00a0 The parish priest is, in fact, appointed by the Abbot of Le Mont-St-Michel, no less.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The High Council of the Guild had taken a unanimous decision in 1973 to make a pilgrimage to Little Sleepfold every January. Since I am the only member of the High Council, all decisions are unanimous. This includes the recent decision to change the Guild insignia to be worn for this pilgrimage. The new red tie may, at first sight, seem to resemble quite closely the tie sold for 1p at the recent Marks and Spencer Penny Bazaar but such a coincidence is purely coincidental. Anyway, there I was, wearing Guild insignia, making my way with Meg to Little Sleepfold last January. The roads were quite treacherous in the winter weather but Meg is an excellent driver who honed her car handling skills in the narrow lanes of North Wales and so we duly arrived safely in good time for Mass.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The church is very old, built in the thirteenth century. Little Sleepfold is so remote that the parish missed the Reformation entirely. This little building is the only church in Britain to function continuously as a Catholic church since its foundation in the Middle Ages. The parish was founded in Saxon times by the renowned missioner, Blessed Englewulf of Grassington. It was then dedicated to the legendary Roman martyrs, Saints Primus and Secundus. It was rededicated by a local nobleman, Sir Thomas de Carey, when he returned from the Crusades. Sir Thomas brought three things back with him from the Middle East: a small fortune in Persian gold, chronic malaria and an undying devotion to St Theodosius. No-one ever knew quite how he acquired any of these items. The Sleepfoldians have gone to Mass in this church ever since. In fact, everyone in the village is Catholic, except for the couple who keep the Post Office and their name is Pope. They usually go to Mass anyway, just to be sociable.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
To be honest, it seems most of those who go to Mass go to be sociable. The parish priest Fr Michael is a lovely man, as good as a piece of bread, as the French say, and as true as gold.\u00a0 He has been parish priest for as long as I\u2019ve been visiting Little Sleepfold. He is a big, shambling, slightly untidy man of uncertain age and he is obviously devoted to his people. Nonetheless, despite all his efforts, the parish seems to lack fervour and zeal. People come to Mass regularly and that is something. But nothing much else seems to happen. The Sleepfoldians are comfortable in their faith and loyal to it but it\u2019s all a bit flat and lifeless. Until this year, that is.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Fr Michael read the Gospel and then paused. The pause went on and the silence deepened. One or two people looked at their watches but still Fr Michael paused. Then, at last, he spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cLast night,\u201d he said, \u201cI had a dream\u201d<\/p>\n
I had no idea what was happening and nothing could have prepared me for what was to come. I had heard nearly forty sermons in this church and I had seen them float over the heads of the people of Little Sleepfold. But not this time, not this time. I will try to report this sermon in Fr Michael\u2019s own words as closely as I possibly can. Just imagine him speaking softly and all of us in the congregation listening to him in total silence.<\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I had a dream. I was at the very Gates of Heaven. I knocked and St Peter himself opened up.<\/i><\/p>\n
\n\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, well, well\u201d exclaimed the keeper of the keys, \u201cif it isn\u2019t the excellent Fr Michael! Welcome, welcome, come on in! How are you, my friend and colleague? How can I help you?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m very well, indeed, your Holiness\u201d, I replied nervously. \u201cI\u2019m not really sure how I came to be here but, while I am here, is there any way at all that I could possibly have a few words with the people of Little Sleepfold who are here in Paradise? If it\u2019s not too much trouble?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNot a bit of trouble\u201d said the great apostle. \u201cWhere was that again?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cLittle Sleepfold\u201d I repeated.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOf course. I\u2019ll just look it up\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\nAnd to my surprise the big fisherman sat down at a shiny new computer keyboard.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI always thought there was a great golden book here in heaven,\u201d I began.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYes, yes, indeed, there was\u201d, interrupted the heavenly gatekeeper \u201cbut recently we\u2019ve gone digital.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
He tapped away at the keyboard and a screen came quickly up, headed \u201cLittle Sleepfold Home Page\u201d. There wasn\u2019t a single name on the screen.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhere are they all?\u201d I gasped. \u201cThere must be thousands of them here by now\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, it\u2019s obvious,\u201d replied the prince of apostles. \u201cThey must still be in purgatory\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
Purgatory! Of course! I asked St Peter the way and he gave me simple and very clear directions. I thanked him for his help and got ready to leave.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cJust a minute!\u201d announced the first Pontiff. \u201cIt\u2019s a rough road down there and I can see that you\u2019re in your bare feet for some unknown reason. You might find these sandals useful\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
So off I went in my borrowed sandals down a steep rocky path until I reached a great silver portal marked with a black cross. According to St Peter, this was the Door of Purgatory.\u00a0 I knocked and the door was opened by a tall angel, clothed in shining silver and with wings the colour of midnight. <\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cGreetings\u201d he proclaimed, \u201cbut tell me! Who exactly are you and what brings you here?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cMy lord angel\u201d, I stammered. \u201cSt Peter sent me\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYes, I can see you are wearing his sandals. How may I serve you?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cMy name is Fr Michael and I am the parish priest of Little Sleepfold. I\u2019m looking for any of my parishioners who may be here\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, if St Peter sent you, I suppose it must be all right\u201d said the angel \u201cbut this is highly irregular.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
He led me into a huge room lined from floor to ceiling with large ledgers.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAs you can see,\u201d he commented drily, \u201cwe haven\u2019t got broadband down here just yet. Perhaps if that nice Mr Gates drops in one of these days?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
The great bird of God took down the required volume and turned to the Little Sleepfold page. Not one name was to be seen there. Not one.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cErm?\u201d mumbled the angel apologetically. \u201cWe don\u2019t actually seem to have anyone here.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHeaven help us!\u201d I gasped. \u201cWhere are they all? There\u2019s no-one in heaven either!\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, there\u2019s only one possible answer. They\u2019re all in the Other Place!\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
Fr Michael paused for a sip of water. The congregation, including myself, hardly dared to breathe. He took a drink and continued.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
So on I went, on down and down the road. I was very glad of St Peter\u2019s sandals. The cobbles and rocks gave way to glowing charcoal. The light was fading fast when I came to the vast expanse of Hell Mouth. The path was wide open but I knocked timidly on a post.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
I was greeting at once by a red-faced demon with a black S tattooed on his forehead. <\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cEvening, mate!\u201d he chirped. \u201cCome on in!\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNo, thanks,\u201d I managed to stutter out the words. \u201cSt Peter sent me. I\u2019m the parish priest of Little Sleepfold and I\u2019m looking for my parishioners\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, well,\u201d grinned the imp. \u201cSo you\u2019ve come from Old Cock-a-doodle, have you?! How is he these days? I can see he\u2019s lent you his sandals\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
I stood there shaking in those very sandals.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cLittle Sleepfold, eh?\u201d chortled the demonic gatekeeper. \u201cLook over there, pal! You can\u2019t miss \u2018em.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
I peered into the pit. It was, quite literally as hot as Hell. At first everything seemed black but gradually my eyes grew accustomed to the dim red glow from the rocks. And then I saw them. Then I saw them! All the people of Little Sleepfold. People I\u2019d heard of, people I\u2019d known, people I\u2019d married, people I\u2019d buried, all heaped up in a corner like withered leaves.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSeen enough, mate?\u201d queried my guide. \u201cSure you won\u2019t come in?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNo, no,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI\u2019ll just be going now\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOK then. See you soon!\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
\u2013\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNot if I can help it\u201d I replied and then I woke up.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
I can tell you, my brothers and sisters, I was relieved beyond words to find myself in my own bed. I know it was only a dream but I can\u2019t get it out of my head.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
Fr Michael turned to the altar and Mass continued. At the end, we all left without a word.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I have a copy of the Little Sleepfold parish newsletter before me as I write. It seems that, nowadays, there is Mass every evening at 7 30. On Mondays it\u2019s Mass for the Cafod group, on Tuesdays for the young people of the parish and on Wednesdays it\u2019s full choral Mass. On Thursdays, the new Catenian group meets \u00a0and on Fridays the Catholic Women\u2019s league \u00a0has its weekly Mass. The prayer group and Bible study class are both thriving. Children\u2019s Church is full to bursting every Sunday and the parish response to the Christmas \u00a0hospice appeal was simply astounding. The new choir is said to be almost as good as the choir at St Bartholomew\u2019s Rainhill but I doubt that somehow.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019m due to visit Little Sleepfold on Sunday. I\u2019m speaking at Mass about the work of the Guild of St Theodosius. I\u2019m hoping to set up a branch within the parish. I\u2019m expecting great things from my talk. After all, haven\u2019t I seen for myself the power of preaching?<\/p>\n
This tale is inspired by a traditional French tale, the best known version of which is called \u201cLe cur\u00e9 de Cucugnan\u201d part of the 1869 collection \u201cLettres de mon moulin\u201d by Alphonse Daudet. The story itself dates back at least to the sixteenth century. I\u2019ve updated it and relocated it.<\/p>\n
Bernard Fyles<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
As well as being a Catenian in good standing with my local circle, I am also privileged to be the founder and Life Grand Master of a smaller Catholic association: the Guild of St Theodosius the Cenobiarch. As you all know, St Theodosius is world-famous as a leading light of fifth-century monasticism in the Holy
+ Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":1183,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1235","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1235","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1235"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1235\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2450,"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1235\/revisions\/2450"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sthelenscatenians.co.uk\/development\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1235"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}