The month of May so far has been a time of great sunshine which has been a real
blessing for many, affording us an opportunity to increase our vitamin D levels. May
has also been quite busy with a range of things within and outwith the Church.
Presbytery has met in our Church and considered once more many issues relating to
the Presbytery Mission Plan. Later this month the General Assembly will meet in
Edinburgh and discuss many major issues affecting the future survival and shape of
the Church of Scotland. In Rome, in the Vatican City, a new Pope has been elected
by the Conclave, and many folk may have watched the recent movie of that name or
re-read the novel by Robert Harris upon which the film is based. VE 80th anniversary
celebrations have come and gone. Thinking of European matters for me this month
has been framed by a novel I am currently reading, THE BISHOP’s VILLA by Sacha
Naspini. The author is an Italian and this short book has been translated into English
by Clarissa Botsford. The book tells a story in a fusion of fact and fiction of Rene
the town’s cobbler, during the Tuscan town’s occupation by the Nazis and the role
their Fascist enablers play as Jews are rounded up and detained in the bishop’s villa.
This is based on the true story of a nefarious collaboration between the Fascist
authorities and the Catholic diocese of Grossetto.
My late father had his very own cobbler’s last, as he used to repair his own shoes
(buying his soles and heels in Woolworth’s), and so when I came across a section of
the novel detailing Rene’s work I was intrigued. Rene has to repair shoes for his
fellow villagers, the occupying forces and the prisoners detained in the bishop’s villa.
He realises that “stepping into someone’s shoes” now has a whole new meaning. Taking
off the soles of someone’s shoes he could read the owner’s whole story. Those who
banged their heels, those whose tread was leaden, others with invisible arches,
where only the toes had left their marks. The cobbler develops a new habit of before
looking someone in the face he would take a quick peek at their shoes, which told a
completely different story. A character could be discovered that had nothing to do
with what was on display. As we meet people I wonder what we see – their faces,
their shoes? What stories of theirs do we encounter, and dare we step into their
shoes to discover what is really going on. And as people of faith how can we walk
with them on this journey of life and faith?