RUPERT AND THE GOOD FRIDAY VISION

After enjoying a Good Friday breakfast of scrambled eggs, hot cross buns and tea with his mother and father and stimulated by a robust debate on the subject of the current state of the Church of England, Rupert went for a walk in the nearby woods.

Rupert often liked to process important things alone whilst wandering through the wood and something his father had said about 'not having to like everyone you save' bothered the young bear tremendously, especially the additional 'including Justin Welby'.

Firstly, he thought it sounded somewhat superior to talk about saving someone and the self congratulatory laugh after he delivered the Welby line made Rupert feel as if his father was not quite as compassionate as he liked to believe. He'd asked his dad what irked him so much about the Archbishop of Canterbury and he simply replied 'He's a traitor to the church and not only that, he, more often than not, treats his job as a political position rather than a spiritual one, enjoying the power of his role a little too much."

"But dad, you told me you're not even a Christian. What do you even care about it?"

"I greatly admire the Christian culture, Rupert, especially the music and the architecture. And from what I can see it's now all being diluted to adhere to some woke agenda. Welby himself has said it's 'better to be woke than asleep.' Personally, I believe if more of the Welbys of the world stayed in bed and slumbered rather than committed to their misguided actions and emotive political messaging in public life, the country and the church would be in a far better place. Still, I'm sure his mother loved him."

Having always believed his father to be a tolerant man, Rupert couldn't help feeling as if Mr Bear was being a little cruel regarding Welby and his leadership of the Church of England. The little bear could admit, however, that the bespectacled man did look a little pious and smug unlike the jovial Vicar Fortingall of Nutwood Parish who often quoted scripture at Rupert when he whizzed past the local church on his bicycle.

Something else that Mr Bear had mentioned over breakfast had intrigued Rupert and had got him thinking about the significance of the Easter holiday.

"Luckily my boy, there are still custodians and guardians of the faith who, although not always obvious to our eyes, protect the traditions and teachings of Christ securely throughout the land."

Rupert wasn't entirely sure how he exactly felt about Christianity but he'd always had a tangible sense of Good Friday representing something sacred and important. There had always been a stillness to the day that seemed different to other religious holidays and he felt somehow compelled to reflect on the image of Christ even when trying to go about his ordinary bear business.

Shaking his head, still perplexed at why his father would seem so vexed about something he had no belief in and wondering who exactly these guardians of the faith were, Rupert intuitively felt that he needed some greater understanding about such issues on his own terms.

"This must be what it feels like to be an adult, I suppose. One must find one's own answers to the big questions of life."

Arriving at a clearing in the wood, Rupert felt tired all of a sudden and decided to rest up against an ancient oak all the while nibbling on one of his father's digestive biscuits that he'd carried in his jacket pocket in the event that he would be outdoors for some time.

With his back supported by the width of the tree and the bark scratching a nuisance itch on his bear fur, Rupert felt peaceful and relaxed as if he had become all at one with the surrounding environment.

As his eyes became increasingly heavy, Rupert drifted into a light sleep as the first warm breeze of spring, accompanied by the sweet song of a robin seemed to gently lull him into a state of blissful repose.

In that strange, indeterminate time period between half sleeping and half waking, Rupert could slowly observe a procession of shapes approaching the clearing. At first, the little bear thought they were just the flickering shadows that the midday sun had cast about the wood but soon he saw they more closely resembled knights, the type he remembered from picture books he'd studied in his bedroom at night.

After a few moments the group of knights had all gathered at the centre of the clearing where they formed a circle not far from where Rupert was resting and each in turn, knelt and made the sign of the cross whilst pledging their allegiance to their lord and saviour, Jesus Christ.

It was after each one of them had made their pledge that they all unsheathed their swords and held them aloft in a circle of steel that shimmered and reflected the late March sunshine off their silver blades, creating a prism of colour across the wood like a rainbow.

Rupert wanted to join the knights and say hello to them, but just as he called out to them, he found his body was still fast asleep and he had not yet stirred from the tree where he was rested.

Eventually, with eyes now open, Rupert got to his feet and made a dash to the clearing but found all the knights were now gone and all that was left was a crucifix made of twig and twine that had been planted firmly in the earth.

Feeling that he should honour the sacrifice Christ made for the world as he'd read about in the bible gifted to him by his Uncle, Rupert knelt before the humble looking crucifix and made the sign of the cross, brushing an unexpected single tear from his right bear eye.

Returning home that evening to his parents cottage, Rupert couldn't wait to tell his father who was currently intently listening to Elgar's orchestration of Bach's fantasy and fugue in C minor in his study whilst puffing away on his pipe.

"I think I saw those guardians you spoke of, dad!"

Holding his bear right forefinger up to indicate to Rupert to wait until the sombre music had finished, Mr Bear eventually responded to his greatly excited son, who was clearly keen to tell him of his latest adventure.

"What did they look like?"

"They looked just like those knights of old in my book upstairs."

"They did, eh?"

"Yes, but when I went to say hello to them I realised I was still half asleep in my body so couldn't be entirely sure if it was real or not."

Mr Bear smiled and nodded his head.

"This is the very nature of faith itself - somewhere between great certainty and great doubt where one has to routinely test the measure of one's beliefs.'

Rupert suddenly understood something about religion that had previously escaped him and felt extremely grateful to have a father that understood his experience so well without laughing at him.

After having a nice hot bath, Rupert had made his way to bed when Mr and Mrs Bear came to say goodnight to him in his room.

"Why don't you believe in Jesus and God, dad?"

"Because I believe in other things, son. Like you, for example."

"I'm not God though."

"No. You're my little bear and in your way you're doing just as much as anyone to save the world."

"What do you mean by saving the world?"

Mr Bear laughed at his son's perpetual inquisitiveness but realised his question deserved a serious answer.

"I mean protecting everything and everyone to the best of your ability without finding it to be a chore. That means all your friends and all your family in Nutwood and the big wide world beyond."

Rupert appeared to understand his father and nodded solemnly before breaking into a wry grin.

"And, I suppose, Justin Welby!"

Mr and Mrs Bear both laughed uproariously at their son's humourous riposte.

"Exactly!"

And with that they each kissed Rupert on his soft furry forehead and turned off the lights of his room. The little bear continued to wonder how he could ever be sure whether those knights were real or not.

Then remembering the humble looking crucifix made of twig, Rupert felt satisfied that it was sufficient evidence for their existing and so slept, secure in his newfound faith.