The great thurible swinger

I did not know John van Castricum very well at school because he was a class ahead of me at CBC Pretoria in the 1950s.But I do remember him fondly and think of him every time I go to Benediction or attend a service in which a thurible is used.

We were fellow altar servers at the parish of St Pius X in Waterkloof, Pretoria, and Sunday evening Benediction was always well attended, a highlight of the parochial week.

Being a senior acolyte, John was official thurifer, and for us juniors, to be given the privilege of carrying the incense “boat”, was an enormous honour.
There was a time, however, when John somehow let the charcoal in the thurible go out, much to the annoyance of our parish priest, Mgr Mason, who suffered quite considerably after having had a lung removed and made up for not being able to yell at us by glowering with terrifying intensity.

Anyway, John van Castricum clearly decided that he needed to re-establish his reputation as senior thurifer and on the following Sunday he did something that I will remember for the rest of my life.

Those were days, of course, when priests celebrated Mass and Benediction at the main altar with their backs to the congregation.

That particular Sunday, I was relegated to lowest acolyte level. I was kneeling at the side of the altar, holding a heavy brass candlestick, trying as hard as I could not to set my cassock and cotta on fire.

It was midway through the service when I became somewhat mesmerised by John swinging the thurible to and fro. I noticed a strange smile on his face and his body language literally screamed that something profound was about to happen.
The thurible swung higher and higher until, at the end of each arc, it was pretty much horizontal. Smoke from an extra dollop of incense billowed into the church like Thomas the Tank Engine on steroids.
Mgr Mason had his back to John, oblivious of the fact that a hush had fallen over the congregation.

The arc increased beyond the horizontal and then, almost without warning, John gave an extra twist to his practised wrist and sent the thurible into a complete 360° loop.

With almost awesome dexterity he held it back from another loop and quietly continued swinging it gently to and fro.

The gasp from the congregation at his remarkable feat was hardly noticeable as every man, woman and child seemed to unanimously decide with enormous determination and restraint not to give the game away—mostly because John managed somehow to do what he did with dignity and decorum.

Mgr Mason didn’t have a clue about what was happening behind his back. And when he did turn around, John van Castricum was nothing short of angelic, with his thurible smoking like a steam train—just the way the monsignor liked it.