Reflections of a Canadian Churchman

Thank you to all of you who followed my little serial, "The Archdeacon", over the last couple of weeks.  I first had the idea for this story about a year-and-a-half back when I sat down and wrote the first chapter.  I had a rough idea of where it would go but then I had my nervous breakdown and it got shelved for the time being. In this present time of isolation during COVID-19, I thought it would be an opportunity to revisit this unfinished project, do some writing, and throw it out there.  It's really little more than a first draft, so I appreciate all the kind comments that so many have you have sent regarding my "poor man's Trollope".  I certainly enjoyed writing and sharing it.  Maybe one day I will tidy it up and expand it a bit. Who knows? A few people have asked about its genesis. My former parishioners at St. Paul's, Newmarket will remember Mr. Perkins.  During my time there, I offered about a half dozen stories about his country ministry in Ham

Chapter 10: The Conclusion Thus, the Archdeacon concluded his visitation of Milbank Deanery. The Bishop accepted most of his recommendations and put her own personal touch on a few of them.   It had not been an easy task for him. After the completion of only one deanery, as one might expect, he was emotionally exhausted. It was not an easy thing to sit in judgment over the fate of parishes, most of which, had been in existence for at least a hundred years.   Each place was filled with stories and histories. Each place was, in some way, a liminal spot, where heaven and earth touched. Each place had witnessed the best of humanity, and occasionally, the worst. It was an awful responsibility.   Although the final say was the Bishop’s, she trusted his counsel, and for the most part, followed his advice. This was but the first deanery he was to visit, and he had many more yet to see. This had given him a taste of what his life would be like for the next while.   And where colleague

Chapter Nine Some Bad News for St. Osmund’s “So, you are not going to fight for me then,” she said. “Christa, I would always fight for you. It’s just that I cannot recommend that St. Osmund’s be kept open.” There was a moment of silence between them.  Although it had taken him some time to get to this last visit in Milbank Deanery, Christa was the only one with whom he openly discussed the future of her parish.  He did not feel he could play any coy games with her. They had known each other for too long and they had shared too much.  Christa knew the truth anyway.  She knew that her parish, once a thriving cardinal parish in the town of Midway and now a shadow of its former self, could not survive. For those who are not ordained, it may not be easy to understand how devastating it is for a priest to see their parish closed.  It’s personal. Clergy feel the weight of the success or failure of a parish so profoundly upon their shoulders that it cannot be otherwise. While they

Chapter Eight The Bishop Checks In  Word had started to get out around the rest of the diocese that the Archdeacon had begun his visitation in Milbank Deanery. Rumours of all sorts were flying (as rumour does) about which deanery would be next. It was said that he had a quota ; that a certain number of churches in the diocese must close.   It was also said that the Bishop had already decided upon those churches and that the Archdeacon’s visitation was just pro forma , to give the impression of due diligence and proper process. Behind every rumour there is always some small semblance of truth. Surely, the Bishop did have an idea of which churches ought to be closed, at least according to the numbers – and she had all those numbers at her disposal – but I also think that she genuinely wanted to get it right.   She really wanted to know the whole story of each church and to understand what went on (or did not, as the case may be) in each parish. I may have falsely led the reader

Chapter Seven A Meeting with Methuselah Although he still had two churches to visit, the Archdeacon’s report to the bishop was beginning to take shape.   His visits had been enlightening. While he has some previous knowledge of these places, mostly through interactions with some of the clergy, some stories shared with him by Christa, and from reading their vestry reports, he believed that the personal visits were really important.   The Archdeacon always felt that visits by a cleric to his or her parishioners was the heart of all pastoral ministry, but he now realized how important it was for the diocese, in some form or another, to regularly check in on the parishes and clergy and see how they are doing.   As difficult as his mandate was, he found himself enjoying the visits and learning about what was happening on the ground in this small corner of the diocese. The Archdeacon was beginning to fall behind, though, in his own parochial duties. He had not stopped being a pari

Chapter Six: A Stroll with Mr. Perkins The Archdeacon arrived at Christ Church, Hampton’s Corners about mid-morning and found its incumbent, Mr. Perkins, sitting in the nave.   Many readers of my chronicles with be familiar with Mr. Perkins.   For those who are not, allow me to offer a brief description of him. Mr. Perkins was middle-aged man of diminutive stature.   He wore thick glasses and carried himself with a certain reserve. He was not shy man, but neither was he an extrovert. He was affable and pleasant to be around. Although he was closer to fifty than he was sixty, he was one of those men who seemed much older than they looked, not so much in appearance, but in manner. He hand not been ordained as many year as our friend the Archdeacon but it felt like he had be around the church forever. He had been educated at Trinity College and was very proud of his alma mater.   He had been, in his college days and in the time of his early ordained life, an enthusiastic Angl