every priest in the diocese and the bishop in attendance. My body vibrated with excitement. I was in tune with the cosmos. As I lay on the altar and took my vows before my family, friends, priests and bishop, I believed that the path of my life stretched in a straight line before me.
But nothing prepared me for the reality of parish life. The Hierarchy threw me into a parish with no training whatsoever as to what to expect. I served alone in my parish. Funerals, marriages, communions, the local school and several committees looked on me to provide answers to intractable problems. Decades of experience would have been needed to cope. Still, the days were filled with activities of one sort or another and ran into one another. The nights were a different matter. The long nights that seemed without end. The seemingly eternal silence broken only occasionally by the squeaking of a mattress as I turned back and forth. The Old Testament passage from “Genesis” came into my mind; “ It is not good that man should be alone”.
Then that once in a million chance happened. A young woman named Diana moved into the parish. I did not recognise her. She approached me one Sunday as I bid farewell to the congregation after mass. She said she remembered me from my days playing rugby at the seminary. We talked at length, reworking the old games. I knew I interested her. “ The eyes are a mirror to the soul ” came to mind. I made a mental note to avoid future contact.
Unfortunately, my determination to avoid contact came to naught. Diana turned out to be a replacement teacher taking up a post at the local school. Naturally, I encountered her almost daily in the course of my visits to the school. She possessed an infectious laugh and no boy friend. I do not know why this pleased me but it did. This platonic relationship lasted for months and I should have seen the danger signs and asked the bishop for a transfer to another parish or even overseas. I did not.
The local rugby club has great support in my former parish. Every year one of the teams wins some silverware. This particular year proved exceptional. They won two cups. So, the club mentors organised a big celebration. As a former player, I thought it a good excuse to talk to the players and mix with my parishioners in a relaxed environment. As anticipated, the evening passed in splendid fashion and I did a circuit of the hall, mixing with both young and old. Glasses of wine were placed in my hand and I deemed it impolite to refuse their generosity. I saw Diana several times during the evening and once she turned and caught me looking at her. With a smile, she acknowledged my attention.
As the evening ended and the crowd thinned out, I stayed behind talking tactics with a team coach. I probably uttered a load of nonsense because the wine was now coursing through my system and I felt light-headed. With a good night to the coach and a wave to the remaining revellers, I headed for the door. In the entrance hall, I bumped into Diana as she struggled to don her coat. The touch, fleeting though it may have been, left me with the smell of her perfume. She let out a giggle and I knew that we were both equally intoxicated.
‘Great night,’ I remember her saying in a slurred voice.
Then Diana moved closer and whispered in my ear. ‘I was going to ask you for a dance but I did not want to cause any scandal.’
I believe I said that I understood.
We exited the clubhouse together.
Outside, the night pushed in on the land. Above, the Milky Way painted a trail at the apex of the sky and cast a magical light on the rugby pitch.
‘Tell me about the game of rugby,’ Diana asked, meanwhile pulling me on to the field near the goal posts.
I wish I could say that I resisted as she linked her arm in mine.
She leaned against the goal posts as I tried to explain about scrums, line outs, tries and conversions. The starlight shone on her face and suddenly I was a man; a man of God, but still a
But nothing prepared me for the reality of parish life. The Hierarchy threw me into a parish with no training whatsoever as to what to expect. I served alone in my parish. Funerals, marriages, communions, the local school and several committees looked on me to provide answers to intractable problems. Decades of experience would have been needed to cope. Still, the days were filled with activities of one sort or another and ran into one another. The nights were a different matter. The long nights that seemed without end. The seemingly eternal silence broken only occasionally by the squeaking of a mattress as I turned back and forth. The Old Testament passage from “Genesis” came into my mind; “ It is not good that man should be alone”.
Then that once in a million chance happened. A young woman named Diana moved into the parish. I did not recognise her. She approached me one Sunday as I bid farewell to the congregation after mass. She said she remembered me from my days playing rugby at the seminary. We talked at length, reworking the old games. I knew I interested her. “ The eyes are a mirror to the soul ” came to mind. I made a mental note to avoid future contact.
Unfortunately, my determination to avoid contact came to naught. Diana turned out to be a replacement teacher taking up a post at the local school. Naturally, I encountered her almost daily in the course of my visits to the school. She possessed an infectious laugh and no boy friend. I do not know why this pleased me but it did. This platonic relationship lasted for months and I should have seen the danger signs and asked the bishop for a transfer to another parish or even overseas. I did not.
The local rugby club has great support in my former parish. Every year one of the teams wins some silverware. This particular year proved exceptional. They won two cups. So, the club mentors organised a big celebration. As a former player, I thought it a good excuse to talk to the players and mix with my parishioners in a relaxed environment. As anticipated, the evening passed in splendid fashion and I did a circuit of the hall, mixing with both young and old. Glasses of wine were placed in my hand and I deemed it impolite to refuse their generosity. I saw Diana several times during the evening and once she turned and caught me looking at her. With a smile, she acknowledged my attention.
As the evening ended and the crowd thinned out, I stayed behind talking tactics with a team coach. I probably uttered a load of nonsense because the wine was now coursing through my system and I felt light-headed. With a good night to the coach and a wave to the remaining revellers, I headed for the door. In the entrance hall, I bumped into Diana as she struggled to don her coat. The touch, fleeting though it may have been, left me with the smell of her perfume. She let out a giggle and I knew that we were both equally intoxicated.
‘Great night,’ I remember her saying in a slurred voice.
Then Diana moved closer and whispered in my ear. ‘I was going to ask you for a dance but I did not want to cause any scandal.’
I believe I said that I understood.
We exited the clubhouse together.
Outside, the night pushed in on the land. Above, the Milky Way painted a trail at the apex of the sky and cast a magical light on the rugby pitch.
‘Tell me about the game of rugby,’ Diana asked, meanwhile pulling me on to the field near the goal posts.
I wish I could say that I resisted as she linked her arm in mine.
She leaned against the goal posts as I tried to explain about scrums, line outs, tries and conversions. The starlight shone on her face and suddenly I was a man; a man of God, but still a
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