GENESIS (GODS CHAIN) (74 page)

The community turnout was excellent
,
bringing together
both Catholic and Protestants alike
…
at long last
,
both
c
hurches could worship together inside the
p
arish Church!
Who could have thought this to be possible
?
I
t was seen as a blessing of
God
.

The village
,
like most small places up until about forty years ago in the West of Scotland, exposed a raw
,
bigoted and racist attitude from both the majority Protestant and also minority Catholic Orders; now
,
however
,
much of that dreadful behaviour had all but disappeared through education, religious
tolerance and
the
understanding of good
-
minded folk.
Some peoples
’
stubborn attitudes would never change,
however, and
some would always harbour a disturbing resentment.

So how could religions hope to live together until they at least respected each other?
Could this small village show the way and find the true path to the Creator?
The Minister revered this change of attitude
—
village life had so moved forward since he had been a boy
—
savouring this precious moment as
he
entered the Nave of the Church.

The
rushshshhh
sound of everyone standing up simultaneously echoed the start of the
s
ervice
as
the
parishioners’
heavy clothes rubbed together, reverberating sounds all around the Church in unison.
The air felt charged with spiritual electricity.
It was
,
after all
,
Christmas Eve!

‘Please, Father Polletti. Our flock awaits us.’
T
he Minister gestured towards the Church Lectern.
The
members of the
congregation were all standing and looking at the dignified papal figure.
The man was thin and tall and of regal stature.
Father Polletti then made the sign of the cross and stood forward, while the jovial doctor Graham stood no less elevated and in equal importance beside the
C
atholic
F
ather and seen by all.

The
a
ltar was large enough for both men as they overlooked the communal congregation
,
and it was Dr Graham
,
being the host
,
who
first
opened the Holy Bible.
Bowing slightly towards the good father and turning to meet the many eyes of the congregation
,
he began his sermon.

‘Welcome everyone to God
’
s holy place. We have all come together on this very special evening to celebrate together the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ!
I believe that through our own eyes,
which are
the window
s
to our souls
,
we
see many good souls here tonight.
Thanks to God and his son Jesus Christ who looks through our eyes.

‘
It is a cold night, a winter
’
s night and a holy night!’ the
R
everend paused slightly, ‘We are joined together through misfortune and yet it has given us this special opportunity to pray together with our
C
atholic neighbours, friends and families in this parish church
—
to pray and sing together and worship the great
A
lmighty.
We are all his children.’

Dr Graham
spoke with
a strong Scottish, his voice lilting up and down melodically
.
Th
e
n he
look
ed
at the
F
ather
.
‘I will pass
the service on to
you
,
now
,
F
ather Polletti.’

Father Polletti smiled and spoke with a distinct
,
clear and loud voice, holding his hand up
.
‘God’s own spirit is here tonight.
This is an unusual gathering and one that I hope will continue into the foreseeable future.’
He
observ
ed
many nods of agreement and murmurs of friendship.
‘Also joining our congregation tonight is an exclusive male
c
hoir from Wales and a wonderful ladies group from Germany
,
and both will sing alongside our own local grammar school students.

‘
Thank you all for coming
,
and God bless.
First we will join together and raise our voices for the Lord and sing from hymnary
,
page sixteen
,
hymn forty nine
:
“Still the night, holy the night”’.

Families sang
,
albeit a bit like the protestant minister
—
in tune
—
particularly the old farmer
,
who looked a little more spruced up than usual.
Mrs and Mr
McCourt,
McCover
and the
Miller
family were in the congregation, Den Lyden and his family too had made it here tonight!
The
R
everen
d
knew that they were always strong and harmonic and good solid church goers
.

A few large Italian families were also present for the first time
,
and the Minister did not recognise a few of those faces. He knew most
of the
people
who
liv
ed
in the village,
but
not these younger men
.
Wearing
quality
suits, one looked thin faced and a little hard
,
with narrow set eyes that darted nervously around.
The other man was more studious and deliberate
,
as if observing the fine architecture.

Both men appear
ed
to be in their mid to late twenties
They certainly didn’t look like waiters
,
either
...
the minister incongruously surmised to himself
.
T
hey had only arrived in the village a day or so ago.
The minister usually was a good judge of character
,
but
in this case
,
perhaps
he was wrong
.
He would soon get to know them.
Everyone was welcome.

There were a few missing faces
,
however.
Where was Constable Howie? He usually checks in to see that everything is going well and that there
are
no lager
-
louts about who
want
to
join the choir for the midnight
s
ervice
.

The
m
inister looked over the nave in search of the policeman,
but
eventually he gave up.
Mmm, Baron Thom is not here
,
either
—
I had heard that he was back in his estate again
.
Such a
busy man
,
the
b
aron
,
and nevertheless a man with strong beliefs
.
N
ot always
beliefs that
I agree with
,
but still, strong.
...

A glass of wine or fine
Whisky
had
both the minister and the
b
aron savouring numerous debates, each man boxing clever on the various philosophies of the bible.
Then he saw
...
Ah
,
and there is “the late Dr Johnston” sitting together with his family
.
Minister Graham smiled to himself at this amusing deliberation
—Dr Johnston’s
clinics were always running behind schedule
,
hence his affectionate nick name!

At some
point
during the service, a lone man entered the church nave at the far end behind the congregation.
Snow was still on the shoulders of his long and soft black Italian leather trench coat. His young face
was
covered with a short
-
cropped beard, his dark stubble still slightly coated with white frost.
He stood silently in the entry way of the narthex of the church for short a moment
,
looking down the
a
isle for something or someone
.