-Brian Mendonça
Driving down to church to catch the 6 p. m. Mass, I
was urged by a co-passenger to take a sharp left at the kerb. This would ensure two things, 1) I
would knock down the policeman who had stopped the traffic 2) Most probably I
would be late for Mass.
I felt I should not act rashly and continued on my own placid course. We reached on the dot at 6 but that was not enough to ensure a seat in the packed church in Panjim.
This was the first time I stood through the entire
Mass. I was wondering if in some utopian world - at least after the sermon -
some of the faithful would get up and offer their seats to those who were
standing. I mean, here were the holy Joes (and Janes) hanging on to every word
the priest was saying.
He was saying that good works should not be done only during Lent but throughout life. He also said when one is doing a good work one should not brag about it but do it silently. I am sure the laity were suitably moved by the sermon. Only thing is they did not move from their seats.
Queenie says in Mumbai, in Kurla, parishioners regularly offer their seats to those standing. What a worthy practice!
He was saying that good works should not be done only during Lent but throughout life. He also said when one is doing a good work one should not brag about it but do it silently. I am sure the laity were suitably moved by the sermon. Only thing is they did not move from their seats.
Queenie says in Mumbai, in Kurla, parishioners regularly offer their seats to those standing. What a worthy practice!
On the way back from Mass we were passing by the
church at Porvorim. It was already dark. Mass was just over. Several church-goers were huddled at the side
of the road waiting to cross over. Being a church-goer myself - and given the
fact that the spot is notorious for accidents – I slowed down. And stopped.
Okay the light was green. And yes that immense truck behind me was blaring his horn to
glory.
Why did you stop?’ Queenie said. ‘For them,’ I said, pointing to the
huddle of people who had barely space to stand now. ‘But the light is green,’ I
was informed.’ ‘Driver’s decision,’ I said. Like foxes in the torch light the
well-dressed folk scampered across gratefully after some hesitation.
As I got home Dwayne, looked up from the ground
where he was reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid and asked, ‘Dada what is freckle?’ ‘Spell it,’ I said, to
make sure I give him the right meaning. ‘F-R-E-C-K-L-E,’ he chanted. ‘It’s a
rash,’ I found myself saying using the noun form.
‘Rash’ can also be used to mean ‘a series of
unpleasant things that happen over a short period of time.’(OED) There has been
a rash of accidents recently.
There have been instances where the faithful
developed a rash from the ash applied to their foreheads during Ash Wednesday
Mass.
We are all connected. Acting rashly may lead one to regret what has been
done without thinking.
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Published in Gomantak Times Weekender, Panjim,Goa on Sunday, 8 March 2020. Pic of Bush Medicine Dreaming by Rosemary Petyarre, aboriginal artist from central Australia. Acrylic on canvas. spiritgallery(dot)com.au
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