24 December 2024
Good morning,
on Christmas Eve. We are nearly there: final visits to shops for food and presents; meeting family off trains and buses; heading away for Christmas gatherings. Today the University Chaplaincy is holding three services of Carols by Candlelight in St Leonard’s Chapel at 2 pm, 4 pm, and 6 pm. All are welcome. Do come in good time, especially for the 4 pm service, to be sure of a seat before we reach capacity. Donkey onesies and flashing reindeer antlers welcome – but not obligatory. Tomorrow, on Christmas Day, I will be taking the service in St Monans Church Hall, Station Road, St Monans, at 10 am. All welcome there too.
Feathers
Part 24
The story so far: Promised to Maryam and Joe, Josh was born in St Leonard’s Chapel, celebrated by the congregation, and visited by Deliveroo riders and astronomers.
The new family returned to Nazareth Cottage in Kingsbarns. Maryam learned how to breastfeed her baby, and she and Joe discovered the insistent realities of a helpless infant’s body in their home. Joe’s mother was helpful in teaching them about nappies and helping the baby sleep; Lizzie came over and coo’d like a dove over Jonny’s cousin, as she liked to call him. Josh grew a little, and didn’t seem to mind when Maryam’s friends came to the cottage one day after the winter vacation and all picked him up and kissed his forehead. “How did you choose the name Josh?” they asked.
“Joe and I both felt the name was right – it sort of flew into our heads,” Maryam said.
Not long afterwards the family had to go to the Registrar’s Office in Cupar to register Josh’s birth, paying £10 for his birth certificate. They were in the midst of answering the Registrar’s questions, pondering exactly what to put in the section about his father, when an old man shuffled in and started peering at the families sitting around the room.
“Don’t mind him,” said the Registrar. “He’s the Provost, and he wanders into all the Registrar’s Offices when he has a chance for a selfie with the newborns. His wall is plastered with them – it’s his thing. He’ll want one with little Josh.”
And right enough, the Provost came over to them, and asked to take Josh in his arms. “One of the oldest Fifers with one of the youngest,” he said. But as he looked down on Josh’s face, the Provost’s bonhomie fell away, and tears came to his eyes.
“He’s so beautiful, he’s like a light for our world. I’ve just been in meetings today about our people in Fife – desperate stories. Children without shoes for school. Poor diets. People waiting weeks to see a doctor, a year for a psychiatrist. Damp flats. Asylum-seekers – how brutal things are back home, family disappeared, persecution for their beliefs, or just for who they are. How can this baby belong to the same world? If only we could make a fresh start with him!”
The Provost held him so tight against his chain of office Maryam was alarmed. But the Provost handed him back and said to Maryam, “I’ve got hundreds of pictures of me with babies on my wall. But I don’t need any more. Your son is the one I’ve been waiting for; he’s the one to change us – I can die happy now. But it won’t be easy for you. I reckon it will be painful – goodness always brings out fear and anger in others.”
Another voice like a crow’s caw came across the room, “That’s right – he’s the one.”
Maryam turned round to look. It was a cleaner, old, tiny, in a light blue uniform, wiping down the coffee-tables.
“God bless you,” she said, “and God bless the child. I’ve been cleaning here for 56 years since my husband died. They tried to make me retire but I fought them. I’ve been waiting to see the kid who’ll give us something to believe in. And this is the one.”
Jan van Scorel (1495-1592), Holy Family, Palazzo Bianco, Genoa
Yours,
Donald.
Revd Dr Donald MacEwan
Chaplain