29th January, 2006

AUTHORISED VERSION

Many people I know, when they heard I had been appointed to St. Joseph’s, offered me their condolences on my having to deal with the French – the language and the people. Did I not know of their fearsome reputation for not being very tolerant of people who don’t speak French? It has been a great relief to find that if the reputation had ever in the past been deserved, it certainly has no relevance now.

In fact, quite the contrary. It’s a huge relief, when I go into a store, and as I start to stutter out my “Je parle un petit peu ……”, and as I see the look of horror on the assistant’s face at what I’m doing to their language, as often as not I get a very polite “I can speak some English, sir”. And you can be sure their English is infinitely better than my French.

Fortunately most of the phone-calls that we get here are in English, which is just as well as they can be about the strangest of subjects. Especially towards the week-end, most of them relate to the times of masses. Some have to do with making appointments to see one or other of us, and the rest could be about anything under the sun. This week there was one asking did I know of a Catholic church near Eurodisney (I don’t, but on establishing that the enquirer intended staying at Eurodisney over the week-end, I was able to suggest that the hotels are generally good at supplying such information).

The other call was even more unusual - did I know the correct way to pronounce ‘Amen’ in English – is it ah-men or ay-men. Apparently some choir group, not attached to St. Joseph’s, I should rush in to say, were having a difference of opinion on the subject. I gave as my opinion that either pronunciation was acceptable nowadays, and which version one used generally depended on the context. I was told that the context was a repetition of the word – ‘amen, amen’. “Oh,” I said, “in that case I would generally say ‘ay-men’, but I wouldn’t get into a fight about it!”

After I had put the phone down I was able to say to myself what I had felt like saying to the enquirer, “and who made me an authority on English”? The caller evidently presumed that because I spoke it I would be some kind of authority on it. The people in the synagogue in today’s gospel clearly didn’t expect that Jesus would be an authority on God’s message, and were deeply impressed when they realised that He did teach ‘with authority’.

But his authority wasn’t the authority of the authorities, if you follow my meaning. It wasn’t about having power, or even forcefulness of expression. It wasn’t the authority that says “It’s true because I said so, and I’m the boss”. It was the authority that comes from manifest truth, manifest love. He was, as it were, speaking a different language to what they were used to. And of course He was the authority – He was the language – He is the Word.

He would be entitled to have a look of horror at the mess we make of it!