“Oh, what beautiful roses!”

At St Michael's this week upon Our Lady's altar, a vase of magnificent red roses sat in resplendent glory as a focus of attention. The colour of the roses was surely even further enhanced by the background blue of the cloak in Mary's statue. Little dots of dew glistened on the petals as the ladies arrived for morning Rosary.

The attention of the regular little group who gathered every morning prior to Mass to recite the Rosary together was distracted. They were enchanted with the magnificent roses. Violet, the leader of this little faithful band could not hold herself back after the Rosary was completed — from sniffing the flowers.

"Oh, such a beautiful aroma" she breathed "roses are my favourite flowers".

Amy, not to be outdone by Violet also came to savour the perfume. The colour drained from her face as she squeaked "They have no aroma".

"It's your sinuses acting up again," said Violet in an all-knowing retort.

"No" squeaked Amy again "Violet, I tell you, they have no aroma".

They eyed each other in horror as the same thought went through their heads — "Surely not" they both uttered in unison. Violet feeling humiliated having been sure she could smell the rose scent.

With tremulous hands they both reached out and touched the delicate petals — "Oh my goodness" they both blurted "These are not real".

The secret was out...

So the secret was out. In fact St Michael's had been using artificial flowers for quite some time. It began with some greenery on St Patrick's Day. It looked so good that soon a few artificial flowers began to appear between other displays as colour enhancement.

During the hot weather, these flowers did not wilt and droop. They boldly stood their ground and retained their pride. No one noticed. No one knew. Except the one person who regularly attended the flowers and arranged them according to the Church Seasons and the appropriate colours.

Violet and Amy, when they recovered from their shock, decided Fr Cunning needed to know about this fiasco immediately. Fortunately they bypassed Cindy, thinking this issue was too big and important for her.

"Father" they almost cried, "A terrible thing has happened". "It is an insult to Mary the Blessed Mother and a sacrilege against our Almighty God!"

Fr Cunning remembered an incident from the previous week when a visitor to the parish was seen after Communion fingering the consecrated host in his hand. He feared further trouble was afoot.

He stood silently waiting for the women to compose themselves enough to relate what else can have happened.

"It's the flowers," they sobbed. He looked at them blankly — silently waiting for enlightenment.

"They are not real," said Amy with tears in her eyes "they are artificial".

Fr Cunning was relieved these women had not witnessed the unknown man with the host.

"You don't say" was all he could respond, "well fancy that".

Disappointed at his lack of outrage they continued "it is these younger women since that Vatican Two thing, they don't know what is proper anymore".

After assuring these two parishioners, generous with their Thanksgiving contributions even though both are widows and pensioners, Fr Cunning assured them he would look into the matter.

The complexities of parish life...

With a heavy heart Fr Cunning walked away. Many Church matters weighed heavily on his mind. People demanding their babies be baptized when neither parent comes to Mass any more; squabbles at the school over pupil enrolments for the coming year; the leaking pipe beside the church and the electrical wiring that needed a total overhaul. He had 2 mores Masses to say that day plus visit the local nursing homes. He was tired, very tired. He needed a break, but no priests were available to fill in for him, even for just one weekend. And now these women were having apoplexy over a few artificial flowers.

The tired priest ate a lonely lunch of soup and toast and pondered over the complexities of parish life. Meeting after meeting and always people needing placating over trivial matters. Consensus had never been reached over the colour for the new carpet in the church. Finally he just made the choice himself and took the flack. A few people withdrew from the Thanksgiving program in protest.

He thought about these women who could be so shocked over a few artificial flowers when they had each borne numerous children and raised them on meager budgets. Many of the older parish ladies had led hard lives. They were stoic women who had lived through the Depression years of the 1930's yet their faith could be outraged over a few paper flowers. He sighed. He wondered if the man ever consumed the host or what had become of it. He was thankful the parishioner who told him about the matter had kept it quiet. He could just imagine the outrage Violet and Amy would have made had they been the witnesses. He wondered what kind of fuss would be evoked if he insisted everyone consume the host in his presence before moving on after Communion. People would wonder "why" and wild rumours would circulate around the parish.

In the evening after the last meeting had finished, he sat exhausted on his bed with his breviary. Too tired to read the words he put the book aside and fell into the escape of sleep with many unanswered questions on his mind. Violet and Amy would still be waiting for his response tomorrow; the Bishop's office would be chasing up his parish financial figures for the year; the School Principal would be on his doorstep straight after morning Mass with queries about accepting Muslim children for the coming year.

In fact the Bishop had been hinting that maybe it was time for Fr Cunning to pack his swag for a change of parish. The faithful priest knew the issues would be much the same in a new parish. There would always be a Violet and Amy, just have different names. There would still be meetings, personality differences and quite likely artificial flowers.

“God loves REAL people”

The Holy Spirit renewed his flagging spirit as he slept. When Fr Cunning arose refreshed the following day, he suggested to the two ladies that there is a time and purpose for everything under heaven — even artificial flowers. God cares more that people love one another rather than whether or not the flowers are real or made of paper.

"God loves REAL people", he told them "people who appreciate the efforts of everyone, especially the kind lady who gives of her time to do the flowers week after week and keeps them looking good during the hot weather".

As Violet & Amy re-thought their priorities, they decided REAL people see more than flowers. Even artificial flowers have great beauty. The gift of the many REAL people in their very blessed parish far outweighed any ARTIFICIAL people pretending to be someone they are not.

Their shock was soon to come when Fr Cunning announced he was packing his swag ready to move to a new parish after Christmas.

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Cindy the Sacristan is the pseudonym of one of the long-time members of our community. In real life she has spent many years in a voluntary capacity as sacristan in a large outer suburban parish.

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