"Being a priest is more than praying and getting sermons ready.'' So says Rev. Canon James Francis, rector of Christ Church, Devonshire, who is only too pleased to reveal his "relaxed side'' and dispel the popular myth that men of God spend their lives permanently attired in clerical garb, and leading lives of perpetual piety where no worldly pleasure intrudes. In fact, the Canon is a very sporty fellow who politely declined our suggestion to wear his clerical collar for today's photograph in favour of a peppermint-striped shirt, natty Bermuda shorts, and trendy tube socks.

Off duty, Canon Francis pursues a variety of hobbies, of which roller skating and dancing are two favourites -- and he apparently cuts a mean dash at both.

He is also a keen ice skater, and has played and taught baseball, basketball, and tennis during his long career.

"As a young priest you had to serve out your curacy in the church, and you always started out with youth ministries,'' he explains. "That meant getting to know kids in the parish and community, and doing things with them. In all of my churches -- Cincinnati and Lincoln Heights, Ohio, and Detroit, Michigan -- the heavy emphasis at all times was on young people and children: Find them, do things with them -- that was your future.'' Certainly, the dedicated cleric could not have taken his mission more seriously than at Lincoln Heights where, as the parochial school's only male staffer, he was the director of physical education.

"We had baseball, basketball and tennis courts right there in the complex, so I learned to play all of those games with the young people and young adults,'' he remembers. "We had a semi-professional neighbourhood football team, and I coached the boys basketball team.'' And why such a proliferation of sports? As the then-Rev. Francis learned, they have a special importance in troubled neighbourhoods with negative influences.

"Sports are the `in' with young people, so you have to learn how to play them to the point where you can be helpful,'' he explains. "And children are very nice. If they like you, and they get along well with you, whatever they know they want you to learn. So much of what I have learned is as a result of relating to and joining in with young people.'' Since roller skating was particularly popular at Lincoln Heights, and an easy way to control large numbers of youngsters, Rev. Francis regularly bussed groups of all ages to the nearby rink where he and his charges spent many joyous hours perfecting their skills.

"I fell down with the young kids, and they laughed with me, and the good skaters taught me how to skate,'' he recalls of those days. "That made me a part of them.'' At the adult sessions, from midnight to 2.30 a.m., he just had fun.

And the Canon sees nothing strange about his separation of church and skate.

To the oft-asked question, `Why skating?' his standard response is: "One, you need to concentrate on what you are doing; and two, you must keep balance in mind at all times.

"These two points stick in my head as a priest as well: I must concentrate on what I am doing so that it is done well, but at the same time I have to maintain a sense of balance in my life at all times.'' In fact, the Canon thinks everyone should take up skating, or something similar, to improve their concentration and reduce stress.

"The Church maintains at all times a balance about what it is doing, and so it is with skating. You have really got to think about what you are doing, but you can't be uptight about it,'' he explains. "In skating, if you are relaxed, the skates will carry you where you want to go. The reason you concentrate is to stay co-ordinated. The whole body is working to help you maintain a good balance, and that's the way life is, isn't it?'' While the Canon misses the manoeuvrability, speed and artistic freedom which indoor roller skating rinks afford, not to mention the opportunities for line and couples dancing, he makes regular use of Devonshire rectory's long front verandah. Elsewhere, he skates with great care because the ground can be very uneven, and the slightest obstacle can cause a nasty spill, despite the fact that he always wears protective gear.

Ice skating is also something he misses here, but remembers fondly.

"It is very beautiful -- standing up and gliding. It is a little more difficult than roller skating, because you are standing on a blade as opposed to four wheels, but again concentration and balance are the keys. And if you are going to fall, you must relax.'' Mention the word "dancing'' and the Canon's eyes light up.

"I do all the latest dances,'' he says proudly, while listing reggae and cha-cha-cha as two of his favourites.

Credit for keeping his terpsichorean repertoire up to date goes to his son (who ice and in-line skates), and daughter (who in-line skates and runs marathons).

"I like to go to dances, wherever they are, and I will dance up a storm,'' he confesses. "I had a ball at the Project 100 Balls, and sometimes I will dance at wedding receptions.'' And why is he so fond of dancing? Again, there is a biblical analogy in his response.

"Dancing allows you to be totally relaxed and free, and also meet people.

It's good to get on the dance floor and see your friends, and change partners and wink at them.'' If this shocks the narrow-minded, the Canon doesn't care.

"I think sometimes people would love to see (the clergy) stuck on a shelf somewhere, but I won't be one of those. My example is that Jesus went everywhere, and met all kinds of people, and was very relaxed with them. He knew who He was, and He didn't have to be concerned about what people thought.

It was more important that He was Himself.

"That is my philosophy too. I know who I am. I create relationships with people, with children, and with my congregation, and we move on from that creation.'' Small wonder, then, that this down-to-earth cleric is liked by people from all walks of life, and also served as Chairman of the Human Rights Commission for many years.

Young people also find him friendly and approachable, as a result of which he claims never to have experienced any problems in his dealings with them, even in ghetto parishes.

"Respect begets respect,'' Canon Francis says. "I never start out feeling the youth owe me anything as a priest. I begin with respect -- meeting them on their terms, and on their own turf.'' Just how successful this philosophy has proved is perhaps best demonstrated by the gold crucifix and chain given to him by the children in Detroit at the end of his tenure there. It is not only something he treasures greatly, but wears daily.