Christ the King Parish in Burnside Christchurch

Fr Chris celebrating Sunday Mass

(You will notice a white screen in the picture, that is where the hymn words are projected. Quite disconcerting as one feels the congregation is having a community vision All looking up to the apparition at the same time.

Barbara the parish secretary and myself

Fr Chris Orr the assistant priest came and picked me up from my uncle’s place and took me to Christ the King. Fr Chris is one of the rare young priest. I think he is the youngest in the diocese and he has only been ordained for a couple of years. A nice and caring man who came to the priesthood after being a motor mechanic and by all accounts has a real racy car that he has built up from scratch. This is really a show stopper for the youngsters of the parish.

My first impression was, what have I let myself in for. The house was a square box with a small kitchen and dinner/living TV room. Everything seemed to be compressed, even the stairs to the bedrooms were narrow. I subsequently heard that when it was built in the early sixties that the plans had been much larger. However the bishop at the time thought it was too big and knocked a third off it. But rather than have new plans they just reduced the sizes of the rooms and knocked out a bathroom. Consequently the kitchen and all the other rooms are undersized. The parish is in the process of trying to get a new modern house built.

The South Island is notorious for changing climate. One minute you could have 30 degrees then next minute it could drop to 10 degrees or lower. Yet for all that no one seems to have central heating in their houses and as for double glazing forget it. In my first night in Burnside parish house I could hardly sleep as the wind was blowing and the rain came down heavily. The window frames just rattled all night and there was a banging in the loft. On top of that the roof was corrugated and when the rain came down heavily the noise was nearly deafening. We later found out that the banging was caused by some of the roof corrugated tiles coming loose. The whole house had a definite sixties feel about it and I don’t think much has changed there since then. And as we know the sixties was not known for its architecture or its buildings. I am not complaining, (really) I am just trying to build a picture for you!

The parish Church and the people were by no means stuck in the sixties. Here was a modern parish with a congregation of over a thousand who had taken ownership of their parish. The people were very welcoming and very pleased to see a new youngish priest. (You smile) It was amazing how many times I was invited out for meals and jaunts while I was there. Hence the lateness of my blogs to you. I had hardly any time to write and as for learning Italian I will have to start that in the new year. They have a great social group which caters for all ages. A pastoral Assistant that runs among other things a CAfe group which I attended. There were very many groups being run by the laity and most of them didn’t rely on the priest. The people seemed to understand the situation that the days of relying on the priest for everything was over, and if they wanted to keep their parish identity they were the ones who would have to preserve it.

Saying all that the whole parish had a great love for their priest Fr Bill Middleton. Everyone said how much they loved him and how much he had been the instigator of the parish moving forward. His love and concern for the parish had rubbed off on his parishioners. It was a very open parish and Fr Bill as he was affectionately called had an open house. If there was anyone in trouble or alone they would be welcomed to dine at his table. It would be very rare indeed for him to have lunch on his own. Many people who wouldn’t quite meet the mark of “some” would always be welcomed by Fr Bill, that is why there is a big Catholic Asian community there, who feel welcome and appreciated there in Christ the King Parish. The Asian community are noted for their extra devotions outside of Mass and Fr Bill has gone out of his way to accommodate them, which while I was there joined them. It is always a good sign of a thriving parish to see so many at daily Mass and all the other devotions that are held and that is what happened in Christ the King Parish.

So though it seems I started with a little bit of a moan I really did enjoy my three week stay in Christ the King which has given me food for thought which is why I came here. Also I was able to participate in all that was going on liturgically and socially, rather than running away to do other things. My sojourn here has given me much food for thought. Talking about food, the New Zealanders find it hard to cater for Vegetarians. A look of panic enters their eyes as soon as you say that you don’t eat meat or fish. I think over a period of three days I ate vegetable lasagne three times. Well at least it was food some people don’t even have that. On my last day in Christ the King I met Fr Bill and he was all that his parishioners made him out to be.

The Church In New Zealand

Typical New Zealand Rural Church

Spent a couple of days with Uncle Arnett and we had a good time though he has slowed down considerably since the last time I saw him. I had committed myself to start working in a parish in the Christchurch diocese on the 14th of October. So I went to the Vicar General Monsignor Gerry O’Connor in cathedral house. Very nice man in his seventies and he asked me to go to a parish in Burnside as the Parish priest had gone away for a few weeks to rest and have a break.

Fr Gerry told me that there were only 34 priests in the diocese trying to serve 52 parishes. Though they had some help from the Marist order these were going to pull out at the end of the year. 75% of the diocesan priest were over 65, so the future is looking grim in the priest department. Like most of the affluent nations New Zealand is suffering from a shortage of priestly vocations. Some of the priests in the rural areas here are looking after five or six parishes and on some Sundays can be travelling over 200 miles to celebrate Mass and return home.

The pastoral plan over here is not so much about organising priest to work together but rather enabling the laity to take ownership of their respective parish. The Pastoral plan has been on the table since 1997 but has still not got off the ground in a big way. I actually think our diocese in Portsmouth is a lot more forward in its implementation than they are here in Christchurch. I believe they have discussed the plan and on paper it is very impressive but without a certain number of priest it is nearly impossible to implement.

There is a lesson for our diocese here. At the moment we have enough priest in the diocese to actually implement the pastoral plan, therefore we should do it before it is too late and the number of priest dwindle which might make it impossible to put into effect. At the moment we have enough priests to work together with the laity so that an effective way can be found so that individual parishes can keep their identities with out a resident priest.

Our parish in Crowthorne and Sandhurst have already experienced this and is experiencing it again for a longer period. It is heartening to hear and see that basically you are putting the pastoral plan in to practice and through this you are growing into a community who prays, works and plays together and keeping your identiy. You and other parishes like you are the future of our Church. Yes we do need priest to celebrate certain sacraments, but maybe not as many as we think!

Arnett’s demob and New life down under

Arnett's House in Papanui

Arnett at the races with parishioners Bin and Teresa and Paul.

When Arnett got home from the army he had no house as the family house had been rented. There was no job in the dairy as his job had been taken by some one else. He found his girlfriend six months pregnant to a Canadian soldier so was leaving the country to marry him. His famous words to her were, "What happened to you?"That’s the thanks you get for putting your life on the line. In retrospect Arnett says that if he knew then what he knows now and how he would be treated by the Government and business after his army period he would never fight for them again. As far as he could see he was no more use to them so he could easily be discarded with. The only job Arnett could get that paid enough money to live was in the mines. It was a dirty job and after two years Arnett knew that if he stayed in that Job he would die young.

Arnett applied for assisted passage to New Zealand but was refused as he was in a job that was considered vital to the country. That was not to deter him he had saved over a hundred pounds so he paid for his own passage. It took him six months to get to Australia as the old steamer he went on kept breaking down. But as he said it gave him a chance to see some of the world. Before he left England he was living with my Aunty Nellie and he had seen me a couple of times in the late forties but he wouldn’t see me again until 1989 over forty years later. All he knew was that my mother had said that she was moving to the East coast and he naturally assumed that I was with her, but I wasn’t. Unbeknown to him or my Aunty Nellie I was up the road in a children’s home, and that is why we lost touch for forty years.

Eventually Arnett after dropping in South Africa for a month or so landed in Australia, there he worked for a year or two and then decided to join his cousin in New Zealand. Here he met his future wife Evelyn who had been married before and had two children which he treated as his own. They were married for over forty years and Evelyn died while Arnett for the first time returned to the country of his birth to be with me at my ordination in June 1994. Arnett still lives in the house they bought when they first got married in Papanui and is one of the reasons why I am here in New Zealand on my sabbatical.

Uncle Arnett.

Sylvia (Anett's Step Daughter) and Megan

















Arnett 2006
















Uncle Arnett.

Uncle was born in March 1923 and was given the name Arnett after his uncle who was killed in the First World War. His mother Gertrude Hardman was thirty six when she married Andrew Eastwood who was 41. They had one more child and that was my mother May who was born two years after Arnett. By all accounts it was a hard life lived in the old cottages of Livsey Street in Whitefield. Arnetts dad was really a bachelor who wanted a house keeper, rather than a wife. He was more interested in his dogs pigeons and rabbits than the family. Gertrude had to take in washing to survive and worked day and night. Eventually it took its toll and she died in her early forties when Arnett was only ten. This left Granddad to bring up the children and he didn’t like it one bit. He had no idea how to bring up children and by all accounts was very heavy with the belt and hands.

The house they lived in was a two up and a one down and when my mother got too old to share a bed with Arnett he had to share a bed with his dad. The education of both children was pretty poor and when Arnett left school at 14 he finally got a job doing a milk round with a horse and cart. Being resourceful and chatty he soon started to make money. One has to remember in those days the milk man was also the travelling grocer as well. He tells the story that when he was quite young him and his mate got a bit sloshed. He came home a bit worse for wear and crept up the stairs as he got to the top this fist came and smack him in the face. It was so hard it lifted him off his feet senting sprawling down the stairs and right through the front door, knocking the door off its hinges. Next day when his friend came to pick him up he was told never to come to the house again.

At the age of 18 Arnett signed up in the army it was in the middle of the Second world war. His regiment was based in St Albans Hertfordshire. He was assigned to the tank regiment as he was small and was a gunner. They went over all the country training and trying out new models of tanks. Some of the tanks were lethal. One of the prototype tanks that was used was liable to implode every so often. During this training period his dad died and Arnett had to go and bury him. He never saw his crew again. They had gone out to test a new tank and the shell back-fired and exploded in the cab and everyone was killed.

Arnett and his company were one of the frontline in the Normandy landing. He eventually made it to Germany and was there for a few years when he was demobbed. When this happened they gave him a chitty to get to Manchester on the train, a second hand suit no money and no thank you. Typical government response to some one who had put his life on the line for King and country. He had served his purpose and was no more use so could be discarded with out a bye you or leave. Arnett said that if he would have known how he and his fellow soldiers were treated before he joined up he would not have done so. He realises now that he was just a small pawn to be relinquished when his usefullness was ended. Nothing has changed really only now we are much more aware of being used.