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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 the perils of small study groups
The Rectory St. James the Least
My dear Nephew Darren
So, you are about to run an Alpha course in your parish; I am sure your bishop will be delighted. I remember him from my Oxford days. He was just starting his course as a gangly undergraduate when I was finishing my doctorate on Eusebius.
I recall him as a keen rugby player who took early morning dips in the Isis, who led intense discussions on Saint Paul’s theology of “the body” over cups of cocoa in the evenings in his rooms and who spent his holidays laying paths for the National Trust in the Lake District while lodging in Youth Hostels. He’s exactly the sort of person who will empathise with your ministry – hearty, enthusiastic and overflowing with compassionate intensity. We were not close friends.
We tend not to go in for those sort of things here at St. James the Least, preferring matters a little more relaxed and understated. If we ever do hold discussion groups (and they are a regrettable necessity during Lent), they always start with a good lunch, finishing with coffee and one of Mrs French’s excellent Madeira cakes. Once we have removed from the table, those who manage to stay awake will start to tackle the chosen topic.
However, we always seem to veer off to discussing more interesting matters, such as why Col. Chorley is never allowed to sing solos in the choir any more, or who moved Mrs Cholmondeley’s flower arrangement from the font the previous week. Apparently she has given notice that her weekly contributions on the plate will be much reduced unless an appropriate apology is received.
These matters may not seem as important to you as deciding what the “sardine stone” in Revelation 4 is all about, but let me assure you that to members of our congregation, knowing why the second verse of the National Anthem is no longer sung at our Remembrance Services is of pivotal importance.
At 2pm we wake up those who have enjoyed an hour’s slumber and totter off home, knowing we have once again done our bit for faith in the parish.
I am sure your own group will also return home after your sessions - even if a digestive biscuit and weak tea is all that has been offered – invigorated and braced to tackle the heathen in the parish. We all take our pleasures in different ways.
Your loving uncle,
Eustace
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