St. James-the-Least Sadly,
the author of our St Petrified's column is unable to
provide us with any more glimpses of life in that parish.
We thank him for all the entertainment his stories have
given us over the years. But
happily, the Church of England is full of singular
parishes. There are still some extraordinary clergy about.
So our search throughout the dioceses of When
we first came across this parish, our intention was to
find a parishioner who would write for us, telling us
more stories from the pew. But then we discovered that
the elderly Anglo-Catholic vicar was in the habit of
writing letters to his nephew, who is an Evangelical
curate, about life at St James-the-Least... My
dear Darren I do
hope you have now settled down in your first parish -
although it is such a pity that you did not choose a more
distinguished one. I know you feel your vocation lies in
inner city work – whereas mine, fortunately, has
always been to the better-sort of Cotswold village. I
have always felt that the Almighty understands me well in
that regard. With
Easter so early this year, we find that the May flowers
will be blooming for Ascension Day, Pentecost and even
Trinity Sunday. This causes me some anxiety, as the
ladies who do the flowers can so easily get carried away,
and use colours that clash with the splendid altar
frontals. And if it isn't the flowers, it's Mrs
Margison's hat. Why oh why does that woman wear such a
hat and then sit so near to the front of the church? I
thought she had more aesthetic taste. We had
a little flurry of activity in church on Sunday. At the
signal “let us pray”, as the congregation
dutifully flopped to their knees, sounding like a flock
of geese settling in for the night, Major Hastings lost
his glass eye. Yes, again! That man is so careless at
times. Anyway, released from captivity, the eye rolled
under the pews like a fugitive marble, ricocheting from
hassock to handbag over the stone flags. My
sonorous entreaties to the Almighty were completely lost
as the entire congregation scuttled under pews, trying to
retrieve it. It finally appeared on the collection plate
- along with £4.17, 100 pesetas and Miss Simpson's front
door key. I was unsure whether the last item represented
a fit of absent-mindedness or an improper suggestion. I
returned it to her very firmly at the end of the Service. The
eye stared at me mournfully as I blessed it, along with
the money. But it left a small social dilemma. What is
the etiquette of returning a lost glass eye to its owner?
To
have processed down the aisle with it, accompanied by
crucifer and verger seemed a little too public. To sneak
it to him as we shook hands at the door seemed a little
too furtive. I finally decided to send a server to
deliver it during the last hymn. I still wonder if it was
the right decision. Perhaps you could look through that
new Common Worship book and see if they have included an
appropriate rite for returning lost glass eyes. We here
at St James-the-Least haven't yet got round to Common
Worship. The days are evil enough as it is. I
await your response with interest. Your
loving uncle Eustace |