Sir, —
As part of my degree in French, I had to spend a year in France. I was offered a placement in St Joseph’s College, Montluçon, a boarding and day school for boys run by the Marist Fathers. Some of those boys, now parents and grandparents, have remained in contact with me to this day. Montluçon is in the centre of France and, as implied by the name, the town is built on a hill. From the wide boulevard which surrounds the old town, narrow cobbled streets with ancient buildings on either side lead up to a castle and 15th century church, Notre Dame.
I arrived on a Friday and the next day I went out to explore the town, taking the nearest cobbled street to the college to walk up to the castle. After a brief look at the castle and admiring the view from the ramparts, I walked down the street on the other side. At the foot of the hill I discovered another church, dedicated to St Peter, almost invisible behind the old buildings squashed up beside it. I went in and was bowled over by the most beautiful church I had ever visited. All the religious clutter built up over the centuries had been cleared away to reveal the pure simplicity of the 12th-century building. The next day I went back for the Choral Eucharist.
As I sat in a pew near the front waiting for the service to begin, a tall priest in his cassock strode across the sanctuary. He had the most radiantly joyful smile I had ever seen, which made a big impact on me at the time and to this day in memory. We spoke briefly after the service when I introduced myself and explained why I was in Montlucon. During the week we met unexpectedly in the town and he invited me back to the presbytery, whose front door opened straight onto the street, for a chat. That was the beginning of a deep, life-giving friendship which lasted until his untimely death ten years later at the age of 65.
After The Reverend Canon Alexis Perrin died, I wrote a letter of condolence to his sister. Having got to know Canon Perrin very well, in my letter I told his sister that it was because her brother had embraced the crucified Christ so deeply in his heart that the glory of the Risen Christ shone so powerfully from him.
Canon Perrin suffered. He suffered deeply from the divisions in the Body of Christ, the indifference of so many to the love of God in Christ Jesus, the lack of sympathy and understanding from some of his clerical colleagues, from health issues and from a harsh unjust allegation regarding a safeguarding matter. He was exonerated but the episode left its scar, just as the Risen Christ still bore the marks of the crucifixion in his glorified body. Canon Perrin died after a long drawn out blood sickness on 12th March 1976. I am writing this 50 years to the day since he died.
As disciples of Christ we all have our sufferings, physical, emotional or spiritual. If we can embrace our sufferings in union with our suffering Saviour, the glory of his resurrection will shine through us. That surely is why we celebrate Transfiguration Sunday on the Sunday before Lent. Because of the radiant glow from his face after he had been speaking with God, Moses felt that he had to put a veil over his face (Exodus 34:33), but the apostle Paul, no stranger to suffering, wrote ‘we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his (Christ’s) likeness with ever increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit’ (II Corinthians 3:18). What an encouraging message for our pilgrimage of faith through life!
Yours, etc., —
The Reverend Paul Symonds
(Belfast)
