St Peter is our rock, but you hardly ever hear people talk of him, or write about him, or hold him up as the example. Last year, it was all St Paul.....and I really got into the reading and study, taking up a theme from my earlier life. But it's taken me until now to realise, without Peter there would have been nothing. Jesus gave the highest honour to Peter. Why dont we? St Peter's a given in every catholic life. And he gets no notice at all.

Now I've been struck, forcibly almost, by my need, perhaps I can say 'our need', to understand the first disciple - what were the qualities that made him the right man, one strong enough to be the foundation for two thousand years of history? Because we need to find strength now. Enemies are circling the church. We need to know how to recover from our fear, just like Peter in the palace courtyard. Have you every wondered how we know what happened in the couryard? Because Peter told us. He was the only disciple there - his companion had gone off to find his relative - so if Peter had'nt told, the other disciples would'nt have know, or been able to put it in the New Testament, to come down to the whole world as a lesson. And this is the lesson we need now. We must face the shame of our weaknesses, by know that does not give us an excuse to fail. Let us face our fears, face what they do to us, speak openly of them, and forge on.

When Jesus walked on the water, and Peter jumped out of the boat to go meet him, well he seems sort of dumb and sort of embarassed (at least that's how we interpret it) that he cant get away with the walking on water trick and has to be rescued by the boss, and he gets a ticking off into the bargain. But maybe it's not like that at all: he's braver than any of the others, and his faith - his desire to have faith - is greater than that of the others. He goes over the side when it's the craziest thing in the world - even looking at Jesus doing it, it's still the craziest thing in the world. How great was Peter's longing for Jesus? When he saw Him he just had to go to Him, even though it was the craziest thing in the world. For a moment he was the man he longed to be, with total faith, total courage - the saint he was to become.

No Marks for Tolerance

Marks and Spensers is my 'go to' store for presents. No-one is disappointed with a Marks and Sparks voucher in their stocking. No hostess recoils when offered Marks chocolates. No auntie sniffs at a Marks bouquet. But not this year. Not since they inserted a notably anti-Catholic bigot into their advertising. For Stephen Fry is now one of the Christmas wreath of celebrities hired to move the product. I was sad when I saw the Fry face leering out from the ad - that face I once thought so expressive, such a funny Jeeves, that tiny eyebrow lift that could have me in stitches, and the faux plummy inflection. Funny people always seem harmless, dont they?


I was flipping through channels recently trying to get some American news when I came across a repeat of a BBC programme called 'Intelligence Squared'. It's a debate format and Stephen Fry spoke against the motion that 'the Catholic Church is not a force for good in the world', or perhaps he spoke for the motion that it was'nt. I forget. Nothing was said that I hav'nt heard silly old bigots say all my life, that has'nt been thrust under my nose in tracts by sad, skinny youths who tell me they're 'saved'. I say, 'nice for you', and go on my way. I dont debate them, and I honestly dont mind them approaching me. But, no sale.


And now Messrs Marks and Spencers, my favourite shopkeepers, are thrusting Mr. Fry under my nose to sell me slippers and nighties and sparkly black blouses. No sale. I'm respecting free speech, and freedom of conscience, and the seperation of church and state, and all the other p.c. stuff, but one think Messrs Marks and Spencers must respect is my total, utter and absolute freedom to choose by whom I will be influenced. And no matter how much Mr. Fry lifts that eyebrow, or says 'hmmmm' in that plummy way, or ends his sentences with that upward inflection, I'm no longer influenced by him as a force for shopping good. But oh, that sparkly blouse was soooooo the office party. And those belgian chocs...