It was these fascinating new insights into the words and actions of our Lord that she would share with us, daily, in religion class. You see, Sister Theresa was well versed in the current translations of the Gospels - the translations that juxtaposed the contents of the New Testament against the socio-political mores of the day, as well as a historical context that made even more clear what Christ was trying to say and why, exactly, He probably said it. Their convent was stationed across the street from the church and school, situated near a parking lot that would never be filled on Sundays, and often after classes, one could spot Sister Theresa walking the grounds of the asphalted yard, rosaries in hand, contemplating the Lord.Īside from being devoutly Catholic, Sister Theresa was also fiercely Christian (no, the two don't always go together, although they should), and it was her more modern insights into the faith that really turned me on to all things theological. Sister Theresa was a Franciscan Sister of the Infant Jesus - a sect of nuns still clad in the full garb of cassock and veil, accessorising their humble haute couture with a rope belt that was tied into three knots at the end, and a long string of rosaries that swung from their hips. Only there were no knuckle sores behind its conception, but a particular religion class with Sister Theresa. The irony is that it was a nun who was responsible for Dogma. No - this was a real-life trial, in which I was accused of everything from blasphemy to being a self-hating Catholic who needed therapy because this film could only be the work of someone who'd been rapped across the knuckles one too many times by the nuns in grade school. More than a decade later, seven months before the American release of Dogma, the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights - a self-appointed media watchdog group with no official sanctioning from the Roman Catholic church - would take up where my eighth-grade histrionics left off, and again cast me in the role of an anti-Catholic.Īnd while the circus of their oh-so-obvious and vulgar campaign against the movie and myself was little more than an attempt to build their profile in the media, this was no play I found myself embroiled in. It was the first time I was cast in the role of an anti-Catholic, but it was not to be the last. It was Cromwell and Rich who railroaded More to a beheading (the en vogue punitive measure taken against traitors at that time, back when you Anglos still practised capital punishment), thus martyring the former lawyer, and securing his future canonisation by the Catholic church. ![]() ![]() I was cast as Cromwell, the Master Secretary to his liege Henry VIII - one would assume that my girth, even at that tender age, would have ensured me the royal role of the decapitation-happy progenitor of the Anglican Church, but Ronnie Ignotis secured that part, due largely to his full head of red hair it was a mane, after all, that was historically accurate for the role.įor those of you unfamiliar with the story (and since it has so much to do with the convoluted history of your country, then shame on you), it was Cromwell who tried More, the author of Utopia and the one-time Lord Chancellor of England, for high treason, after More's refusal to sign the King's Act of Succession - the oath that decreed him the Supreme Head of the Church in England - on the grounds that, as a Catholic, he could not see his way clear to Henry's split with Rome.Ī gross miscarriage of justice was perpetrated on More, when Cromwell had Richard Rich - the man who would earn the Red Dragon chain of office as Chancellor of Wales - perjure himself in a false testimony against Sir Thomas. When my time came, our class was asked to perform the story of my favourite saint, Thomas More, using the script of Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons as the basis for our production.
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