Our church serves a diverse community. In the children’s choir, although all of the children are local, there are a number whose parents are from India, the Philippines, Romania (I think) and even Cork. Last weekend the children from the local school brought up the gifts. The priest called on Caspar and Anastasia to come up to the altar. What delightful names and not typical Dublin ones.
It’s all much more exciting than when I was a child and there was never anyone at mass who wasn’t from Cork, except for the odd priest from Kerry.
In one respect, however, matters are not improving. The choir mistress is both talented and dedicated but her musical tastes do not chime with mine and I wish that the choir would do some more classical church numbers. I expressed this to the Princess and she said, “Mum, these are new songs for the next generation; all ten of us.” Oh very funny.
My children continue to star in readings and prayers of the faithful and I am regularly congratulated on their prowess by elderly members of the congregation, leading to a definite instance of the sin of pride on my part, so it’s all going to hell in a handcart etc. Amusingly, last weekend herself had to read “When I was a child, I used to talk like a child, and think like a child, and argue like a child, but now I am a man, all childish ways are put behind me.” No better child to make it work for her.
