If I may, I will continue in the shameless eavesdropping theme of last week. As can happen in a large family, being the eldest I have lots of godchildren. One for every one of my brothers and sisters, with an exception. It just happened that way.
It means that one of my favourite nieces is, in my mind, the one that got away. At times I’m struck down with a sort of spiritual jealously, or the equivalent, and have to stifle an urge to proclaim: “Of course she’s terrific. She too is my godchild after all.”
She isn’t actually but, to all intents and purposes, I decided long ago she is my adoptive god-daughter. Neither she, her family nor our extended family know this. Only you. It’s best that remains between us. I’m trusting you.
Anyhow, there I was in a restaurant recently sitting within earshot of two priests. One was in his early 40s, I’d say, while the older man was in his late 60s at a guess. Both were American and it soon became clear the younger one had at some stage been a pupil of the older man.
But what hooked my attention was when the younger priest began to talk about his “godpup”. Hearing it the first time, I practically choked on my hors d’oeuvres. I had never heard the expression before or since, and soon I was listening to a conversation which convinced me that the Catholic Church must get rid of the rule on mandatory celibacy and soon.
The younger priest explained how he believed the godpup treated him as a member of his pack by the way the dog licked him so effusively every time he visited the house where it lived. Having sufficiently licked, the pup calmed down after claiming the priest as one of his own.
Which was sufficient unto the day until the older priest began to wax about his dog Toby. Yes, there was lots of wine involved and they had been there for sometime before I arrived, but . . .
Godchild, meaning a child one sponsors at baptism, is believed to have originated around 1200AD. It is a combination of the Old English word God, which is related to similar words in the German and Scandinavian languages, and another English word, cild, which itself also had German and Scandinavian antecedents.
