"The next person who asks me how many angels can fit on a pinhead will see me breaking the sixth commandment", he grizzled when we last met. His main concern was, though, the drop-off in attendances at church.
"I’d get 200 every Sunday when I started out, now it’s sometimes just me and old Mrs Garrity — and she dozes off during the sermon. But the good Lord has provided the answer. I see in the news that a priest in Italy is holding Mass in the pub and there’s standing room only and a vicar in Wales is offering 15-minute services to meet the busy lifestyle of his parishioners. That’s the way to go. Fifteen minutes is plenty given the attention span of the younger generation and those are the people we need."
I asked him if the pub idea was a goer.
"It’s brilliant. Our publican is an O’Shaughnessy from up South Canterbury-way so we get on like a couple of brothers."
"I thought publicans got a rough time in the Bible?"
"That they did. But the Bible publicans weren’t running pubs, they were Jews who collected taxes for the Romans and were quite rightly despised. In fact, the old line about ‘bringing tears to the eyes of a publican’ is Bible stuff, nothing to do with the licensing laws.
"Every Sunday morning O’Shaughnessy has a Holy Happy Hour. Two drinks for the price of one. That brings the worshippers in droves.
"I mingle and find out how people are really getting on. None of this standing at the door of the church after the service and muttering platitudes. No, sir. After a few drinks they tell me what’s really troubling them and I usually find a way of helping out. Last week it was a bloke who’s recently become a widower. Never learned to cook and he’s half starved. So, I rounded up a team of widows and now he’s better fed than any man in the place. The widows enjoy it and his big farm could well be an attraction for them. Mind you, too many widows can wear a man down, so I’ve told them to tone it down a bit."
"I thought some of the more righteous of your flock might have baulked at actually going to a pub."
"Well, a few did, but I won them over with my first pub sermon. I took as my text Psalm 104. You’ll know the bit?"
"Actually, I’m a bit rusty on the Psalms."
"Well, it’s the line about ‘God making wine that makes man’s heart rejoice.’ Then there’s the changing water into wine bit which they all know about, so being in a pub is no problem for them now. And talking of wine, we’ve got a great deal with O’Shaughnessy. ‘Take anything you need from the bottle store, Father,’ were his very words. So, I’m using a great Central Otago pinot noir that has them all coming up to Communion — not just the keen types."
"Sounds great. I bet the collection’s improving, too."
"Glory be! A drink or two certainly loosens the purse strings. But even better than that, O’Shaughnessy’s organised that any money invested in the pokies by the heathens who don’t sit in on the service will be donated to the collection."
"Any problem with gambling money going to the church?’
"Heavens, no! It’s just like raffle money really. And the great thing is seeing blokes who begrudged putting a fiver in the collection tray happily losing $50 in the gaming room. God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform, Jim."
"No problem cutting back to 15 minutes?"
"None at all. Of course, things have to be tightened up. Sermon’s only five minutes, but that’s plenty of time for a congregation used to watching television. If you can flog hamburgers in 30 seconds then five minutes is ample to show the way to eternal salvation. In fact, I use the old advertising method of the single-minded proposition. Just one message clearly spelt out. Five minutes just on ‘Thou shalt not covet they neighbour’s wife’ has already saved four marriages that I know of. Then right on the dot of 11 o’clock I give them ‘May the Lord be with you’ and we’re done. Full house and everyone happy."
"If it’s going so well, haven’t you been tempted to run overtime?"
"Heaven forbid! The Celtic rugby boys turn up at 11 for Sunday School and I wouldn’t dare cut in to that. Like you often say, Jim, I’m a very practical priest."
— Jim Sullivan is a Patearoa writer.
