Irreverence

Those of a devout nature should probably stop reading now. My blog today draws on scenes from Father Ted and Monty Python. Again, if you are not very familiar with these comedies, then it’s probably not worth continuing.

Fathers Ted, Dougal and Jack, and the inimitable Mrs Doyle with her teapot, live together in a rambling house on Craggy Island. Who can forget Ted sitting at the window holding up small toy cows to Dougal saying, “OK, one last time – these are small, but the ones out there are far away”.

Or the time Ted says “I’m not a fascist. I’m a priest. Fascists dress up in black and tell people what to do. Whereas priests…”.

The focus of this log is Father Jack. Whilst in Thessaloniki, Richard and I went to view the Holy Church of Saint Demetrius, the patron saint of the city. He was a Roman, but was tortured and put to death by his Roman superiors, for refusing to seek out and kill Christians. From our visit, it became clear that it is a place of pilgrimage for Orthodox Christians, and we saw quite a few groups making the trip.

There was one group of nuns, who would huddle together and talk, then move to the next icon, lean forward to kiss it, before re-grouping. They would then spend a few minutes chatting before heading off to the next relic with pursed lips.

I was reminded of the Father Ted sketch where the nuns have made a special trip to Craggy Island to hear one of his famous sermons. "Father Ted does do a good Mass!" He explains to them why, for some obscure reason, he cannot take mass that night. At that point, Mrs Doyle pushes Father Jack in the door in his wheelchair. “Nuns” he shrieks, “Nuns! Reverse. Reverse”.

Unfortunately, that image stayed with me as we queued to visit the shrine housing the relics of St Demetrius.

Many icons are paintings of the Virgin Mary, with Christ, and one of the things that always strikes me about the Christ child is his portrayal with an adult face. Apparently, it was to detract the viewer from seeing Christ as weak and vulnerable, and to focus on the thought that God sent Christ to save us.

I did have the tune to “Mary’s Boy Child” as an earworm for the rest of the afternoon, but it was displaced later when we passed a bar, in May, playing Wham’s festive hit, “Last Christmas”.

The next day we took a boat-trip down the west coast of the Mount Athos peninsular to view some of the numerous monasteries there, many founded in the tenth and eleventh centuries. [Ed - no woman have been allowed to set foout on this part of the world since then] It was a delightful, glass-bottomed boat, not too crowded, and with a recorded running commentary in several languages. We set off from the quay at Ouranoupoli and the commentary started. Once the each speaking section finished, there was a slight pause before the crew hit the “PLAY” button for some light bouzouki music. This was very pleasant at first, but later on I felt like Michael Palin in the Cheese Shop sketch: “Shut that bloody bouzouki up”.

But I didn’t say it out loud.