As used to be the custom in Wales, many tradespeople and solicitors and the like were known, in a rather droll manner, by giving them a nick-name, a soubriquet, if you will.
So, Mr Jones the Butcher might be called "Jones the Steak" or the milkman, "Evans the gold top".
It was and possibly still is a rather inoffensive and amusing custom.
Eons ago when we first moved to Wales our local GP was a Dr David *****.
This poor man had built up rather a reputation for, how can I put this kindly?.....
....losing his patients. In fact, after his ministrations, many of them just keeled over and died.
Hence he was known as "Dai the Death" (and, for my reader from Baluchistan, let me explain that "Dai" is the diminutive for the name "David" in Welsh).
In a sense, this has applied to altar servers I have known over the ages - even in England.
At my parish of St Michael's & St Martin's, in Hounslow back in the 50s we had a couple of MCs who had extra names attached.
One, in particular moved about the sanctuary at something approaching the speed of sound and, when cornering, did not slow down but merely adopted an angle of 30 degrees. For this he was dubbed (in accord with the times) Eddie "Spitfire" Molloy.
His colleague, who was balding and had an exaggeratedly saintly appearance on the sanctuary (hands together as per norm but head on one side and a far away look in his eyes), was dubbed "St Anthony" because, indeed, the statue of the saint at the back of the Church could, at a quick glance, be mistaken for the MC who shall be nameless.
In the 1990s I came across another MC who carried the soubriquet of "Scud". This was based on the fact that you never knew where he would land or how much damage he would do.
It would be amusing, thinks I, if we collated other nicknames of servers through the ages, or, maybe, even make up one or two for MCs you are acquainted with.
A few that I have noticed in the London area might be worthy of attention.
You know, the ones that look as if they drink a pint of embalming fluid every night before bed.
Who are they? I could not possibly say. Christian charity does not allow.
I am quite hopeful that Fr Z will be eagerly reading this post as he likes good news on a regular basis and, let's be frank (small 'f' please note) there ain't much of it around right now.
In fact, good news is about as abundant as.....as.....piety at a eucharistic service - ahem.
Well, my good news is that we have achieved a 100% increase in the number of altar servers able to serve the Latin Mass.
We've gone (in the whole of the Menevia Diocese) from altar server 'C' (who does sterling work on the sanctuary) to altar server 'J' who began his duties last Saturday at our Vigil Mass.
So what? You might well ask.
Well, I tell you why I am so pleased, it means that I am no longer the back stop server; in fact, I can hang up my cassock for good and my cotta is now surplus (?)
That is a cause for both sadness and rejoicing.
There is no greater joy than those precious moments on the altar when the server draws close to the celebrant, and close to Christ.
There is a wonderful intimacy, at various stages during the Mass; at the Offertory when one stands close to the bread and wine soon to be made Flesh and Blood.
At the Consecration, of course and, again, when accompanying the Lord to the altar rails and holding the plate lest any terrible accident may occur.
And what greater intimacy is there than when serving Mass attended just by Mrs Linen in a private chapel early in the morning. Pure joy.
The rejoicing bit comes from the fact that I shall no longer have to creak and groan around the sanctuary (yes, I do know that I should offer it up but it does not make for a particularly attractive sight) and, anyway, I have always criticised altar servers of a certain age believing that this duty is best performed by boys and young men.
Now, I must also confess to a small sin of pride although, I do try to keep it under control.
This is my 65th year as a server (I did start rather precociously, at three months of age).
After 65 years of serving the servant of the Lord I think I am due a bit of a rest.
But, I still remember my brother Patrick, at the behest of Canon Musgrave, hauling me out of the family pew to be boat boy at Sunday Benediction (remember Benediction?), and to service on the sanctuary for the first time.
And I vividly recall standing before Fr Steer in the Presbytery on a Saturday morning at the age of seven and reciting the responses of the Latin Mass.
This was a critical part of being an altar server; you could not serve alone until such time as you were word perfect, without the use of a missal.
That's a bit of mud in the eye for those who claim that Latin is elitist and beyond simple minds.
You could not get much simpler than my mind at the age of seven and, I'm sorry to say that Mrs L still harbours a belief that I have not progressed much past that stage.
Still, it would be good to know if 65 years as an altar server is a record (there's bound to be some LMS MC who is 105 and has notched up the century!).
Some years ago, many years ago, in fact, a line of graffiti appeared on one of London's underground (Metro) stations.
Some sad soul had written in a blank space on a poster: "I love grils"
That line stayed there for a week or two until, one day, passers by noticed that someone had put a line through "grils" and had written "girls" underneath it.
Another couple of days and a fresh line was added.
It stated: "So what's wrong with us grils then?"
I like simple and ridiculous humour (no comments on that please) and a post on the Catholic Sacristan blog jogged my memory regarding a topic on altar servers that has been gnawing away at me for quite some time.
Altar "boys" are well catered for in the Faith; they are the norm for all Tridentine Latin Masses, in accord with the rubrics for the EF.
But there is nothing compatible for the girls. And there should be.
I don't quite know what, maybe someone out there will be able to come up with something that is well distanced from church cleaning and making the teas after Mass.
There needs to be a real role for girls and young women that does not patronise.
A part for them to play so that, just as serving on the altar gives young males an insight into a priestly vocation, the female role introduces them to the possibility of serving God as a nun.
But what?
The male altar server also has guilds or societies that he may aspire to, St Stephen's Guild and the Society of St Tarcisius.
Excellent. But what is there for the girls?
Maybe one of the traditional orders or the LMS even, might consider establishing a Guild of The Little Flower or the Society of St Philomena. 'The Franciscan Daughters of the Immaculate' has a nice ring to it.
Better still if a woman would step up and earmark a suitable saint or order for the purpose and get the ball rolling - this initiative needs to be driven by a female rather than a male.
All suggestions welcome in the comments box.
I can only think of sacristan type duties or, possibly, leading the Rosary before Mass each Sunday - and building up from there.
Maybe some grils girls might like to throw a few suggestions into the ring?
Bishop Kieron Conry of Arundel and Brighton, has stated that he had difficulty in thinking of sins to confess as a small boy.
He lied, therefore, making up sins so that he would have something to reel off in the confessional. I am sure he is not the only boy to have done this.
The trouble is, that the Bishop was really laying the blame for such lies, on the repressive clericalism that existed before 1969 (cough).
I never had any such problem at that age; seven year old boys, in my experience, generally have access to a wide range of sinful acts ranging from theft of a tadpole to placing a drawing pin in an older sister's slipper.
And many more in between.
But, just in case there are any young future Bishops out there, here is a prompt list of some of the deadly sins that a typical seven year old Catholic boy might commit:-
1. Switching the church hall instant coffee for gravy granules
2. Emptying the contents of a firework into the thurible, for discovery at a later date
3. Standing on the edge of the cassock of a kneeling altar server (when on acolyte duties) - this does produce rather spectacular results as the kneeling server performs a backwards somersault upon getting to his feet
4. Flicking pellets at the church cat
5. Placing small dead animals in Sister Rosario's desk drawer
6. Removing the clappers from the sanctuary bells
7. Serving at Mass with your pet white mouse in your pocket
8. Placing itching powder on the collar of the MC's cassock
9. Creating a towering inferno effect when entrusted with the thurible
10. Treading on the toes of senior clergymen whilst serving, specifically, Monsignor Derek Worlock
There, Bishop Conry, that doesn't look too hard does it?
Many years ago, our curate was Fr Edward Bushey, a shy but charming priest who had previously been at Westminster Cathedral. Apparently, whilst hearing confessions at the Cathedral some thug opened the door and punched him in the eye, blackening it as a result. I don't know if the thug was actually reacting to a penance or whether it was a random attack.
He was duly prosecuted and Fr Bushey carried on smiling piously, in the best sense of the word, until he joined my home parish of St Michael and St Martin, Hounslow.
There he wasted no time in improving the level of altar serving, gently coaching us until, at the ripe old age of eleven years we were MC-ing Missa Cantatas and generally putting the noses out of the 'men' who always hogged the senior positions for themselves..
Fr Bushey was a pragmatist and Saturday mornings were spent with half a dozen of us servers, routinely going over our moves on the sanctuary until we were as perfect as a ballet company.
In fact, Mary O'Regan once told me that the River Dance (or, Irish dancing as I suppose we should call it) had its origins in the time of Catholic persecution in Ireland. The young men and women used to gather at the village crossroads of an evening and translate the actions at Mass of celebrant and server into a choreographic form. Arms had to be kept at the sides as Cromwell's Puritans thought it sinful to hold one's arms in the air. So, secretly, yet publicly, the moves of the Mass were learnt and committed to folk memory. And of course, Fr Ronald Knox used to describe the Mass to young people as a slow and elaborate dance.
But, back to Fr B. With Fortescue in hand he would direct us around the sanctuary, stopping every so often to say "Is that move sensible?" or, "We don't need to geneuflect there because you have not crossed in front of the tabernacle". In this way a sensible pattern of devout yet practical serving emerged; something that the purists would choke over today but then, every church is designed differently (more so today) and I was minded in later life of the qualifications for young men and women wishing to be waiters. BTEC, the examining body, used to insist that silver service took place from the the left and clearing from the right. This rigid principle was applied even if a customer was jammed against a wall and the result would invariably be soup all over the place. Common sense should dictate in situations such as that and, indeed, upon the sanctuary.
Here is an extract of Fr Bushey's obituary from the Archives of The Catholic Herald - please remember him in your prayers, we need more of his pith today.
"Fr Edward Bushey died peacefully on 20 March at Nazareth House, Isleworth, Middlesex. He retired in 1983, took up residence at St Vincent's Presbytery, Osterley and later at Nazareth House, from 1990 to 1996. He was content and appreciative of the care and attention he received from the Sisters.
Edward Bushey was born on 21 April 1911 at Enfield, Middlesex, one of three children. His brother and sister are both deceased. He attended Chingford Primary School and from 1925 to 1929 studied at St Egbert's College, Chingford, run by the Brothers of Mercy. He worked for an Insurance Company for four years then spent one year at the House of Studies, Edmonton, before entering the Diocesan Seminary at Allen Hall, St Edmund's College in 1935. He was ordained priest by Archbishop Myers on 7 June 1941 for the Diocese of Westminster.
His first appointment was at The Rosary Church, Marylebone, from 1941 to 1946, which plunged him into a city of incendiary bombs and all the hazards of air raids. He survived, and in 1946 decided to join the Benedictine Monks at Buckfast Abbey, but after 18 months as a novice he returned to the diocese. He was appointed a chaplain at Westminster Cathedral where he served from 1947 to 1956.
His last appointment as an assistant was at SS Michael and Martin, Hounslow (1956-1964). He was appointed parish priest at St Anthony of Padua, Radlett, where he served from 1964 to 1980".
Recently there has been a brief flurry of correspondence between Fathers Finigan (see Fr Tim's account HERE)
and Zuhlsdorf regarding the rather profound issue of whether to clink or not clink the thurible at High Mass.
This prompted me to jot down a few notes on thurible etiquette especially as, at Mass last Sunday, the celebrant was all but knocked out by an enthusiastic MC who incensed over enthusiastically.
Of course, the modern day altar server starts with a massive advantage over us pre Vat II lads. You see, back in my day (yawn) the charcoal was pure and unadulterated, much like myself, ahem.
Today’s charcoal is impregnated with chemicals that make it catch light immediately a flame is within three feet of it whereas, back in the dark ages, an altar boy had to suffer third degree burns to his fingers and work at it for half an hour before a faint glow would result.
When the new charcoal was introduced it was called atomic charcoal – such were the times we lived in then.
So today, the thurifer must commence his duties in the sacristy at least ten minutes before Mass commences; he must light the charcoal and loosen up his thurible arm by swinging the thurible vigorously in an anti clockwise direction at least twenty times at head height to ensure that the charcoal is glowing nicely and his muscles are toned up.
Then he must practice his pre incense reception technique: this is where he prepares the thurible for the celebrant to place incense within. Now thuribles come with a complicated chain and pulley arrangement that require the skills of a brain surgeon and double jointed wrists and fingers.
What many young servers today do not appreciate is that the top half of the thurible (which rises according to the aforesaid chain and pulley controls) is apt to become welded to the bottom half unless it is raised slightly at all times.
Failure to do so may mean that the thurifer has to hold the base and jerk the chain in order to release the two halves.
That may sound simple but, dear reader, the bottom half tends to become roasting hot and it takes the courage of a St Laurence to withstand the agony when it is grasped.
An added hazard arises if a slow or elderly priest is the celebrant: the poor thurifer who has to grasp the white hot base may be hanging on for dear life and biting his tongue in order that he does not let out a series of wimpish shrieks; any burns received under such circumstance account for a considerable remission of time in Purgatory.
So, having prepared fully before Mass it only remains for the thurifer or MC to appoint a boat boy, that is, the smallest altar server available who will hold the incense “boat” and proffer it to the priest at the appropriate times.
The servers then process to the sanctuary, led by the thurifer and it is wise to allow a good ten feet between him and his fellow servers on the principle that, if the thurible does not concuss them, the smoke will surely render them unconscious.
This helpful video shows the best use
of a thurible and is an example of the
good relationship between MC and Thurifer
Now we come to the technique known as ‘offering the thurible’.
The moment when the thurifer, accompanied by the boat boy, opens the thurible ready to receive the grains of incense.
If, as stated earlier, the top half has not been kept slightly out of contact with the bottom half you are likely to have a “locked thurible” situation and this can often result in what is known as the “thurible dance” because, as the thurible is jerked apart red hot fragments of glowing charcoal scatter across the sanctuary carpet and Father’s blood pressure rises dangerously high.
The “stomp” begins when priest, thurifer and boat boy desperately jump on the burning charcoal chips in an attempt to salvage the carpet and avoid an even worse conflagration.
At last all is under control and the priest administers the incense and proceeds to give a demo of how to handle a thurible.
This tends to upset the thurifer as Father makes it look terribly easy and when the MC finally takes the thurible and hands it back to its owner it is snatched ungraciously out of his hands.
Now the thurifer is in an awful strop and expresses his feelings by swinging the fully “loaded” instrument to and fro scattering the acolytes and creating a smoke screen that blinds the MC and causes the smaller boys to pass out.
Finally, as a layman I hesitate to take side on the ‘to clink or not to clink’ issue but, after due consideration I have to come down in favour of clinking.
A thuruble that does not clink is like a sanctuary bell that does not ring – useless. But, it is really down to the incensing technique of the thurifer as far as obtaining a resounding clink is concerned.
The fingers of the left hand* of the thurifer should firmly grasp the top of the chains while his left hand takes hold of the bottom part of the chains about 12 inches above the actual vessel part. The chains should pass betwixt the second and third digits allowing the thurifer to ‘flick’ the lower section at the moment that he raises his arms to incensing mode. After ‘flicking’ he brings the lower section back so that it collides with the chain and a click results.
A full click is known as a clang while a partial click is classified as a chink. A clang is by far the most desirable sound to make.
* If the thurifer is right handed, the reverse should apply
An easy and straightforward process that can be painlessly mastered over a period of some forty years or so.
Please note - the following clip shows an MBA in Advanced Thurible Management programme in operation:
I just had to feature this from Acts of the Apostasy, read the whole post HERE
"Because the circus had trained the chimps so well for their acts, it didn't take long for them to learn the motions and actions required of altar servers - the procession, assisting at the altar, holding the paten during communion, and so on.
"About the only things they can't manage," Fr. Bailey said, "are lighting the candles and handling the thurible. Fire and smoke sorta freaks them out, so the deacon takes care of those responsibilities."
Hmm....I know of some human altar servers who can't serve as well as these chimps! (but none that I serve alongside, phew!)
