St. James the Least of All

Happily, the Church of England still retains some singular parish clergy. Take the parish of St James-the-Least in the county of C- for example. Here the elderly Anglo-Catholic vicar, Eustace, continues his correspondence to Darren, his nephew, a low-church curate recently ordained…

Letter from St James the Least of All –

On those out of the ordinary church services….

The Rectory
St. James the Least of All

My dear Nephew Darren

Your plans to devise special Services that will involve local industry does you credit, although I cannot imagine what a church decorated with bathroom suites, double glazing frames and airplane wings will look like. Were we to do something similar in this parish, we would have to devise suitable symbols for merchant bankers and property developers. Perhaps wads of banknotes among the flower arrangements may look rather splendid. Our practice is, naturally, to continue with more traditional ways.

We have just had our annual blessing of the plough and new-born lamb. We always have a packed church - mainly of parishioners hoping to see the lamb ruin the Rector's surplice. The only disconcerting part is to be upstaged by the wretched animal as it bleats piteously throughout my carefully crafted sermon, which becomes lost as the congregation wonders if the poor creature may be hungry, or is missing its mother. The plough always comes from Colonel Wainwright's garden. It stands ornamentally by his lake for eleven months of the year and then rotates round four of our local churches for their services in January. It must be the best blessed, least used plough in the county.

At least this year, I got several of our local farmers to carry it into church. Last year our Verger pushed it up the aisle, accidentally ploughing a perfect furrow along the red Axminster. The sight may have looked all very well in a field, by was not appreciated in the nave. It did, however, provide a worthy project for our Ladies' Guild. They will be much occupied over the coming months knitting tea-cosies and making jam for sales of work before we can replace it.

Our only other occasion when we have animals in church is the Summer Pets Service. Invariably one escapes and our hymn singing gradually disintegrates as the younger members of the congregation try to catch over-enthusiastic dogs chasing cats and rabbits up and down the aisles.

The only true disaster happened some years ago, just after we had restored the organ, adding that splendid trumpet stop. Our organist decided to start the service with a brilliant trumpet fanfare. The drama of the introduction was somewhat spoiled by all the animals in the building simultaneously relieving themselves, out of shock. Our team of cleaning ladies were much occupied that week - and the congregation, for once, raised no objection when I used incense at the following Sunday's service.

Your loving uncle,

Eustace

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