The Barefoot Bishop
by Angus Shoor Caan
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: Be careful where you stop to pray.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Be careful where you stop to pray.
If anyone could be held up for blame it would have to be Nick Redmond, head honcho at Redmond Plumbing and Tiling Services. It was he who jumped into the middle of a heated debate between the Imam and the main man responsible for the building of the new Mosque, one Deep Fraaya. The Mosque was one week away from the big opening ceremony and Fraaya wanted his good friend and business partner the Lord Mayor, himself a devout Muslim, to conduct the opening ceremony. The Imam argued the point that it should be a religious leader taking charge of the blessing and all that went with it. His own preference was for a much celebrated Imam from Birmingham to head up proceedings, but they had reached something of an impasse.
Nick, who was hovering nearby; actually hoping to get more work from the businessman, felt compelled to stick his oar in.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he interrupted, “perhaps I could put forward a third candidate and settle this dispute before there's a big falling out.”
“You wouldn't be suggesting yourself, Mr. Redmond?” asked Fraaya indignantly. “I'd like to point out that you shouldn't really be here when all's said and done.”
“We've had this out before, Mr. Fraaya. You wouldn't be having this opening if you hadn't allowed myself and other experts to inspect the work as per the council's regulations. I'm hardly what you would call religious, but my suggestion could be the answer to your obvious problem.”
“Let him speak,” said the Imam, who had himself welcomed the presence of said experts in the sure knowledge that the contractors had created a most beautiful place of community care and worship since the businessman had a reputation for cutting corners. “I have conversed at great length with Mr. Redmond and I value any input he may have.”
“The Bishop,” said Nick.
“The Bishop?” asked both men together.
“The Bishop of Galloway.”
“Why would a Bishop wish to carry out such a duty?” sneered Fraaya, at the same time looking for a similar reaction from the Imam; a reaction which wasn't exactly forthcoming.
“Think about it,” qualified Nick, “he is a religious leader after all, and wouldn't it look good his turning up? I mean, it would reflect well on yourselves to have such a high profile person attend and indeed officiate at such a ceremony.”
“I don't know the man,” said the Imam, “I mean, of course I respect him and his place in society but how, in the name of all that is holy, would I …... we, ever approach him?”
“Just say the word and I'll arrange it,” offered Nick.
“You ….. you have influence over a Bishop?” asked Fraaya, completely astonished.
“Influence might be too strong a word to use, but yes, I have the man's ear.”
“How so?” asked both men together.
“It's a long story. I saved him …... either him or the church, a lot of money recently, stopped them from being badly ripped off.”
“I see,” said Fraaya, now more than interested, “his coming here would most certainly show us in the best of lights. Wouldn't you agree, Imam Neri? Two religions showing such accord at a time when there's so much animosity within the local community?”
“I would have to agree, Mr. Fraaya. It would surely help public relations along nicely, yes, but are you sure he will do it, Mr. Redmond?”
“Only one way to find out,” declared Nick, fishing for his mobile phone and stepping outside the building as a matter of respect. Both men followed him into the spring sunshine. “Bishop Auckland? Ah. Nick Redmond here, Your Grace …........ yes, yes, one and the same. Listen, how would you like to be in the position of being seen to be doing something about the tensions between Christians such as yourself and the local Muslim community?”
Imam Neri and Deep Fraaya were hovering now, listening in to every word of the one-sided conversation and both happily confirming the time and date of the Mosque's grand opening when prompted by Nick. “Here,” he said, “I'll hand you over to Imam Neri and you can thrash out the details, and, Bishop, see if you can swing an invitation for me, won't you? …...Haha, here's the Imam now.”
“This is indeed a fine opportunity,” said Mr. Fraaya, seemingly forgetting his earlier hostility towards Nick and shaking his hand warmly, “we really should make more of an effort to understand each other, don't you think?”
“I do indeed, Mr. Fraaya. I'm all for a quiet life. Did I hear you say you have other contracts up and coming?”
“Give me your number, yes, I can use a man who knows people.”
They rolled out the red carpet for the visiting dignitary, laying on food and music while many of the congregation lined up patiently to shake the man's hand. The Bishop was both moved and impressed.
After lunch and the obligatory tour of the outer area, it was time for the blessing, the main reason for Bishop Auckland's being there. Following with the protocols, the Bishop slipped out of his shoes and, as an afterthought when seeing everyone was barefoot, decided to take his socks off too before entering the inner sanctum where prayers were to be offered up.
Without notes, he proceeded to give a twenty-minute talk on the need for religion and the need to build friendships and not walls between them. After a quite sustained round of applause, Imam Neri continued with the theme, giving his own blessing before declaring the new mosque open for business; neatly adding that it was also open for prayer. Laughter and ecstatic applause brought the blessing to an end.
It's said all clergymen have their little peccadilloes, whether it be gambling, alcohol, sex or drugs, perhaps even a combination of those mentioned, but in Bishop Auckland's case it was shoes, very expensive shoes, in fact. So, imagine his dismay when he returned to where he had left his £400 all but five pence brogues to find that they had disappeared.
The Imam was beside himself, but thankfully managed to steer the Bishop towards his office without raising interest from either his congregation or the press photographers.
“A thousand apologies that this should happen, Your Grace,” he started, “and today of all days. Whatever must you think of us?”
“Please,” said the Bishop, “expensive as the shoes were, I'm afraid we now live in the world of the opportunist. Why, we now have to lock up everything that isn't nailed down in our own churches for that very reason.”
“I'll contact the police immediately. I can't believe someone should do such a thing in a place of worship.”
“I'm guessing the thief is long gone, Imam Neri, and besides, the good work we have carried out today would count for nothing if the police and indeed the press were to become involved.”
“I agree. So kind of you to see it in that way. I will personally see to it that your shoes are replaced like for like as soon as possible if you could let me have the details.”
“They're from a specialist magazine and rather expensive, I'm afraid.”
“No matter, Bishop. It is only right that we should replace them. Please, may I provide you with a pair of slippers for your journey home?”
“Yes, thank you. That will be fine. The missing shoes can be our little secret.”
“Once again my most sincere apologies for this great inconvenience to your good self. I do hope this incident won't put a strain on our new found friendship?”
“I'm quite sure it won't, my friend. You can have my hand on that.”
Until that day, Nick Redmond had shared a fetish for fine footwear with Bishop Auckland, albeit from a purely voyeuristic standpoint. He made the discovery while replacing most of the plumbing at the Bishop's residence and coming across similar magazines to those he himself pored over endlessly. He also noted that they shared a shoe size. Now, full of the fine food served up at the mosque, he whistled to himself as he polished his new hand-stitched Irish Brogues. No one saw him step into them almost as soon as the Bishop stepped out of them after the tour, placing his own in a carrier bag. He wasn't missed at the blessing. That nothing other than good things had been reported about the mosque's grand opening on the local news was blessing enough for him.
Nick, who was hovering nearby; actually hoping to get more work from the businessman, felt compelled to stick his oar in.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he interrupted, “perhaps I could put forward a third candidate and settle this dispute before there's a big falling out.”
“You wouldn't be suggesting yourself, Mr. Redmond?” asked Fraaya indignantly. “I'd like to point out that you shouldn't really be here when all's said and done.”
“We've had this out before, Mr. Fraaya. You wouldn't be having this opening if you hadn't allowed myself and other experts to inspect the work as per the council's regulations. I'm hardly what you would call religious, but my suggestion could be the answer to your obvious problem.”
“Let him speak,” said the Imam, who had himself welcomed the presence of said experts in the sure knowledge that the contractors had created a most beautiful place of community care and worship since the businessman had a reputation for cutting corners. “I have conversed at great length with Mr. Redmond and I value any input he may have.”
“The Bishop,” said Nick.
“The Bishop?” asked both men together.
“The Bishop of Galloway.”
“Why would a Bishop wish to carry out such a duty?” sneered Fraaya, at the same time looking for a similar reaction from the Imam; a reaction which wasn't exactly forthcoming.
“Think about it,” qualified Nick, “he is a religious leader after all, and wouldn't it look good his turning up? I mean, it would reflect well on yourselves to have such a high profile person attend and indeed officiate at such a ceremony.”
“I don't know the man,” said the Imam, “I mean, of course I respect him and his place in society but how, in the name of all that is holy, would I …... we, ever approach him?”
“Just say the word and I'll arrange it,” offered Nick.
“You ….. you have influence over a Bishop?” asked Fraaya, completely astonished.
“Influence might be too strong a word to use, but yes, I have the man's ear.”
“How so?” asked both men together.
“It's a long story. I saved him …... either him or the church, a lot of money recently, stopped them from being badly ripped off.”
“I see,” said Fraaya, now more than interested, “his coming here would most certainly show us in the best of lights. Wouldn't you agree, Imam Neri? Two religions showing such accord at a time when there's so much animosity within the local community?”
“I would have to agree, Mr. Fraaya. It would surely help public relations along nicely, yes, but are you sure he will do it, Mr. Redmond?”
“Only one way to find out,” declared Nick, fishing for his mobile phone and stepping outside the building as a matter of respect. Both men followed him into the spring sunshine. “Bishop Auckland? Ah. Nick Redmond here, Your Grace …........ yes, yes, one and the same. Listen, how would you like to be in the position of being seen to be doing something about the tensions between Christians such as yourself and the local Muslim community?”
Imam Neri and Deep Fraaya were hovering now, listening in to every word of the one-sided conversation and both happily confirming the time and date of the Mosque's grand opening when prompted by Nick. “Here,” he said, “I'll hand you over to Imam Neri and you can thrash out the details, and, Bishop, see if you can swing an invitation for me, won't you? …...Haha, here's the Imam now.”
“This is indeed a fine opportunity,” said Mr. Fraaya, seemingly forgetting his earlier hostility towards Nick and shaking his hand warmly, “we really should make more of an effort to understand each other, don't you think?”
“I do indeed, Mr. Fraaya. I'm all for a quiet life. Did I hear you say you have other contracts up and coming?”
“Give me your number, yes, I can use a man who knows people.”
They rolled out the red carpet for the visiting dignitary, laying on food and music while many of the congregation lined up patiently to shake the man's hand. The Bishop was both moved and impressed.
After lunch and the obligatory tour of the outer area, it was time for the blessing, the main reason for Bishop Auckland's being there. Following with the protocols, the Bishop slipped out of his shoes and, as an afterthought when seeing everyone was barefoot, decided to take his socks off too before entering the inner sanctum where prayers were to be offered up.
Without notes, he proceeded to give a twenty-minute talk on the need for religion and the need to build friendships and not walls between them. After a quite sustained round of applause, Imam Neri continued with the theme, giving his own blessing before declaring the new mosque open for business; neatly adding that it was also open for prayer. Laughter and ecstatic applause brought the blessing to an end.
It's said all clergymen have their little peccadilloes, whether it be gambling, alcohol, sex or drugs, perhaps even a combination of those mentioned, but in Bishop Auckland's case it was shoes, very expensive shoes, in fact. So, imagine his dismay when he returned to where he had left his £400 all but five pence brogues to find that they had disappeared.
The Imam was beside himself, but thankfully managed to steer the Bishop towards his office without raising interest from either his congregation or the press photographers.
“A thousand apologies that this should happen, Your Grace,” he started, “and today of all days. Whatever must you think of us?”
“Please,” said the Bishop, “expensive as the shoes were, I'm afraid we now live in the world of the opportunist. Why, we now have to lock up everything that isn't nailed down in our own churches for that very reason.”
“I'll contact the police immediately. I can't believe someone should do such a thing in a place of worship.”
“I'm guessing the thief is long gone, Imam Neri, and besides, the good work we have carried out today would count for nothing if the police and indeed the press were to become involved.”
“I agree. So kind of you to see it in that way. I will personally see to it that your shoes are replaced like for like as soon as possible if you could let me have the details.”
“They're from a specialist magazine and rather expensive, I'm afraid.”
“No matter, Bishop. It is only right that we should replace them. Please, may I provide you with a pair of slippers for your journey home?”
“Yes, thank you. That will be fine. The missing shoes can be our little secret.”
“Once again my most sincere apologies for this great inconvenience to your good self. I do hope this incident won't put a strain on our new found friendship?”
“I'm quite sure it won't, my friend. You can have my hand on that.”
Until that day, Nick Redmond had shared a fetish for fine footwear with Bishop Auckland, albeit from a purely voyeuristic standpoint. He made the discovery while replacing most of the plumbing at the Bishop's residence and coming across similar magazines to those he himself pored over endlessly. He also noted that they shared a shoe size. Now, full of the fine food served up at the mosque, he whistled to himself as he polished his new hand-stitched Irish Brogues. No one saw him step into them almost as soon as the Bishop stepped out of them after the tour, placing his own in a carrier bag. He wasn't missed at the blessing. That nothing other than good things had been reported about the mosque's grand opening on the local news was blessing enough for him.
About the Author
Angus Shoor Caan is in an ex-seaman and rail worker. Born and bred in Saltcoats, he returned to Scotland after many years in England and found the time to begin writing.
Angus is the author of thirteen novels, two short story collections and ten collections of poems. All but four of his books are McStorytellers publications.
You can read his full profile on McVoices.
Angus is the author of thirteen novels, two short story collections and ten collections of poems. All but four of his books are McStorytellers publications.
You can read his full profile on McVoices.