A promise is a promise

Last weekend found me again faithfully attending Sunday Mass with the kids. Except for the weekend spent in Perth it was a routine I have closely stuck to for the last 11 weeks since Jenny’s departure.

Raised up as a devout Catholic and throughout our years together, Jenny have been strictly observing this weekend obligation. To wilfully skip Mass is a mortal sin, as most Catholics would profess.  While the kids obediently tagged along, her less-compliant hubby have sometimes been a handful for her.  Jenny would frown when I gave flimsy excuses for missing Mass. “I have urgent work to catch up on, Dear.  A troublesome report to finish up, so perhaps I meet you all when Mass ends?”,  I could recount, using this “work” excuse more than once, even though it reflected very poor time management on my part.

She would complain again of my misplaced priorities and how I could be all glued to Saturday night live football matches but instead have to sacrifice church time to finish yet another very “urgent report”.  “You have time for football but no time for God”, she would rebuke me.

To be fair, my weekend Mass attendance along with the clan has been pretty regular but the occasional absences were repeated enough to get her quite riled up at times.  Only that Jenny never really gets angry. It is not in her nature to show her temper. I knew her too well and perhaps in so doing, was guilty of exploiting her tolerance for my wanton irreverence.

Do not get me wrong. I have grown to adore the Catholic faith and was equally delighted to be married to a Catholic.

Catholics in my view are down-to-earth followers of the Word and how they practise their faith. Unlike some other Christian denominations, they are typically respectful of other religions and as such most do not descend to aggressive proselytising. I have grown to appreciate the traditional and solemn manner of worshipping during Mass, which other denominations might find boring and mechanistic. I have no need for a “happy-clappy” time to bring me to a spiritual high.

But my perceptions and views on religious and deistic beliefs have also evolved over the years, sometimes to Jenny’s chagrin. Why and how so? That might be for another series of blog postings, perhaps at some other time, if I can find the inspiration. For now, suffice it to say that one’s relationship with God is a rather personal matter.   

That said, through all our years together, Jenny could take heart that I have never reneged on my promise.

“So you wish to marry her?” I still recalled Father Malcolm’s words more than 30 years ago.  As a non-Catholic planning to hitch up with a Catholic, I had to undergo mandatory counselling by the priest. Father Malcolm, our parish priest from Australia, made certain that I would first be committed to supporting Jenny in raising up our children into the Catholic faith. I would promise also to never obstruct Jenny’s personal growth as a member of the parish, even as I am free to pursue my own set of beliefs. The church could accept mixed marriages and there was no compulsion for me to be converted.

I have to give my word of honour.  Never mind that it was said 30 years ago, a promise is a promise.  With Jenny’s demise, I have to now take over her leading role in keeping the fire of faith burning within the family.

Mass has now a whole new meaning for me - I cannot help but feel her presence all over again.

On the side of the pews where we usually sit, I could sense her right next to me. She was wearing her usual Sunday dressing, her favourite sleeved purple silk dress or her peach-coloured sleeveless blouse.  She dresses smartly for Mass, as she does all the time.  I would sometimes turn to look at her.  She gently shakes her head in disapproval. I should be focussing on the proceedings, and not be gazing at her. When the time comes to extend the sign of peace to each other, if she is seated next to me, I would put my arms around to warmly hug her.  “Remember we are in a church”, she would softly rebuff my moves.  This would not be the time to display affection.

And so I find myself faithfully attending Mass each week with the kids. Jenny would be pleased. I am keeping my promise and there would be no need for excuses from now on.