Name that feast day
26.11.2009
An old lady's knowledge of the feast days inspires the younger generation.
Summer 1965
It was the school holidays 1965 and in the months after my Pop died I'd rarely seen my Gran's mood so elevated.
Her name was Winnie Molloy and because of her arthritis she walked with a stick in each hand. Every morning she would emerge up the ramp from her bedroom, and with the assistance of a grandchild hooked under each elbow, be lowered into her big armchair.
That morning the postman blew his whistle and I went to the gate to collect the mail and bring it to Gran. She sorted through it with interested efficiency. A voluminous correspondent, there were numerous letters from all over the world and lots of foreign stamps attached to add to my collection.
From the stack she extracted one large envelope, tore it open and pulled out the Columban Calendar for 1966.
"You could learn the whole history of western art from this one calendar my boy," she said, holding up a page that showed a detail of the Sistine Chapel's famous ceiling.
Here was Michelangelo's depiction of Adam, his outstretched arm but a fingertip away from the hand of God the Creator.
"Titian, Raphael, Leonardo and Rembrandt. All the Old Masters saved their very best work for the Glory of God" mused Gran, raking the pages over with her thumb as one new colour print fell after another.
"What do the names on those dates mean?" I asked innocently, looking over her shoulder. She looked up at me in a kind of fierce astonishment. "Those are only the feast days of all the saints in Heaven!" She admonished. She handed me the calendar.
"Here, pick one and ask me to put a name to it."
Puzzled, I looked down at January.
"January 1st?"
"Mary Mother of God!"
"January 11?"
"Baptism of the Lord!" she clucked, taking a loud sip from the tea in her china cup. "Go on, ask me another"
An eight-year old quizmaster with the new Columban Calender in my lap I could see she was enjoying this immensely. I flipped the glossy pages to March.
"March 17?"
"Oh too easy! Saint Patrick's Day, of course. Kidnapped from Britain, enslaved by the Irish, Patrick returned as a priest and had converted the pagan Irish in 33 years – the same time Our Lord was on this earth."
"Saint Patrick used the shamrock to explain the Trinity."
"Yes, its indivisible nature. But what you may not know is that among his many titles Saint Patrick is patron protector against snake bite."
"Snake bite?"
"He drove the snakes out of Ireland, Danny Boy."
She grinned and refilled her cup from the teapot.
"I'm liking this, give me another!"
I flipped a couple of pages.
"May 16?"
"Now you are stuck on the Irish! Saint Brendan, of course. Brendan The Navigator. Patron Saint of sailors, boatmen, travellers and whales."
"Whales?"
"Yes, poor creatures need a saint to protect them from us people."
"But isn't Saint Francis for the animals?"
"October 4th! So kindly by nature he charmed the very birds from the trees."
"Is he for the whales too?"
"Whales, fish, flapping birds, the wild beasts of the forest, my boy. The Lord calmed the savage beast and so did Saint Francis. Now another!"
"June 13?"
"Saint Anthony! Patron saint of all things lost. I have personally given the good saint several hundred pounds over the years to find various things. God bless him."
I confessed my admiration for her knowledge. "You're unbeatable Gran."
"Oh Surely another?" she pleaded.
"August 15?"
"Feast of the Assumption! The Day Our Lady ascended body and soul into Heaven."
I was about to name Gran undefeated champion when my older sister Maggie who'd been listening in the other room ran in and snatched the calendar from me.
"Okay," she said seriously, scrutinising pages for a Feast Day that might stump the reigning champion. She seemed to find what she was looking for in September.
"Last question for you for today, Gran. Whose feast day falls on…. September 22?"
Gran furrowed her brow in thought. She made a long "Hmmmm" sound. She seemed stumped all right, her mind racing to nail that distant saint.
Maggie smiled widely in triumph. "Sooo…. do you give up?"
"Ummm, No." Gran replied in a considered way. "You would of course be referring to the good bishop of Granada, an Augustinian so saintly he wore the same habit he'd received in the novitiate his whole life, mending it himself, though it shamed his canons greatly to see its threadbare countenance. "
"And his name?" urged Maggie.
Gran looked across at me and winked.
"Every morning he would give to the poor who came to his door food, wine and money," she went on. "And when he was asked to punish sinners with harsh edicts he'd reply 'Do you suppose Saint Augustine used excommunication to stop the drunkenness and blasphemy so common among the people of his time?'"
"That may be so Gran, "humoured Maggie, "But what was his name?"
"September 22nd? You would be referring to..."
"Yes, I would be referring to?"
"Ahhhh that would be..."
"Yes??"
"Saint Thomas of Villanova!" piped Gran.
Maggie pushed the calendar back at me in mild disgust. Gran's encyclopaedic knowledge of the saints had won out. "Undefeated champion with a Perfect score!" I shouted.
Summer 2009
I hear the Postie's little motorbike putt round the corner and I head out to check the mailbox only to find that Francine my teenage daughter has beaten me there.
Since there's no
mail for her she's taken to opening anything that looks vaguely interesting. From a large envelope she pulls the Columban Calendar for 2010.
"What's this Dad?" she asks flipping through the months.
"It's from the Columbans, a missionary society of priests, sisters and lay people. They work in the fledgling church around the world. They cross boundaries of countries, culture and language to spread the Good News."
She examines August, the month illustrated by a print of the Madonna appearing to Saint Bernard by Filipino Lippi (1457-1504).
"Oh wow! Look how the artist has captured the tiny details like the vein in the saint's forehead and the curled edges of the books," she gushes like an art aficionado.
"Yes, and the quill in his fingertips poised above the page as Our Lady gives him inspiration to go on writing. As your great grandmother would have said, 'you can learn the whole history of Western art from the Columban Calendar.'"
I put the new calendar up on the front of the refrigerator, stuck on with a motley collection of fridge magnets advertising local lawn mowers, plumbers and panel beaters.
"Dad, can I have twenty dollars to go to the movies?" asks Francine to my back.
"Of course," I reply sweetly, and turning I can see how surprised she is that I have acquiesced to her request so easily.
"But first, my Dear, you must answer three questions correctly…"
"Three questions?"
"Yes, only three. Simple questions really for a girl like yourself. More of a little quiz really."
"What's this quiz called, Dad?"
"It's called 'Name that Feast Day'… Are you ready? Question One…"
Dan McAloon is a freelance journalist for The Catholic Weekly newspaper in Sydney, Australia.
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