The Archdeacon: Chapter Ten

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 colleagues had feted him before, now they were wary of catching his eye.  True, there were the sycophants who cozied up to him in hopes that he would spare them, but everyone saw through them, especially the Archdeacon, himself.  He was once a man with many friends.  Now he was quite alone.

The reader is probably anxious to know how things worked out in Milbank, and I would be remiss if I did not give a complete rundown of the changes that were made after his recommendations were submitted. Allow me to start with that most unique of parishes, St. Anskar’s. The reader will recall that this is the parish that is led by the Rev. Rebecca Hope. The interior had been gutted and worship no longer resembled anything akin to Anglican liturgy.  Well, it was left untouched.  Despite its particular idiosyncrasies, money still talks, bums in pews still count, and effective outreach ministry still matters very much. St. Anskar’s has all these things and continues to thrive.  The Bishop made every attempt to speak with the Rev. Rebecca Hope as to remind her about how proper decisions are made and how Anglican governance works. However, whenever she tried to get through to the parish, the cagey rector was always in some important meeting and unavailable.  A letter was finally sent calling her to the Bishop’s office for a meeting. Such meetings are of a very confidential nature and I have no knowledge of what transpired except that Rebecca Hope is still very much at her post at St. Anskar’s; and there, I am very happy to leave her.  The Chancellor, after much calming by his dear wife, decided not to pursue any action with respect to the sale of his great-grandmother’s window, but I am told that whenever he his out and about that he stops at every antique mall to see if it has turned up and peruses eBay in case it comes up for resale.

The reader will also recall that quaint little parish of St. David’s – the one with the second-hand shop and was nearly $400,000.00 in debt to the Diocese. To everyone’s surprise, it did not close after all.  I wish I could report that it was the effect that the little shop had on our hero the Archdeacon. He was certainly moved by it and the ministry and community that happened in that little space.  Yet, he was a pragmatist and took his commission very seriously. In his report he had put it on the chopping block. However, the Bishop had second thoughts. After pouring nearly half a million dollars into the place, the building was in good shape, and it was thought that that investment should not be lost.  It would get one more chance and the debt was forgiven. Young Fr. Fairview would be offered a new incumbency somewhere else, in a church that had less of a financial burden, in which he could make a better future for himself and where his gifts could be better employed.  However, before this could be arranged, the bishop of the neighboring diocese ferried him away and offered him a rather nice incumbency at a parish in the see city of that diocese. Word has come to me that he is doing very well and has not regretted the move at all.

The Bishop had the idea of then adding St. David’s to Mr. Perkin’s cure of souls. He would remain the rector of Hampton’s Corners, but he would receive the additional responsibility of this little parish.  If the Bishop could not get her hands on the Hampton’s Corners endowment, she could surely leverage it by amalgamating the parishes and having it finance Mr. Perkins’ ministry in both places.  Mr. Perkins was at first reticent, but he was also a faithful priest and a man under vows who never disobeyed his bishop.  Thus, he chose not to make a fuss about it and took it all in stride. Somehow, miraculously, he managed to convince both churches that it was a blessing for them to be yoked together in this arranged marriage. He held special social events and combined Bible studies and occasional services, and pretty soon, they were all getting along surprisingly well. I think it is a testament to his underappreciated skill as a pastor.  Before long, Mr. Perkins had set aside two days a week to spend at St. David’s and in that little village.  He quickly became everyone’s friend, and he especially endeared himself to the incomers and artisans who loved the little church but were not much invested in it.  Some of them started coming to church from time-to-time and even supporting it.  If you pass through that little village on a Tuesday or Thursday, you are very likely to see Mr. Perkins out and about chatting with the locals.  He continued to thrive at Hampton’s Corners, as well.  I suspect this is not the last we shall hear of him.

As for St. Osmund’s in Midway. Yes, it was indeed closed.  The Bishop had an engineer from a big firm come in and give the building an assessment and it was declared condemned. Within a short time, the church and property were sold for an extraordinary sum, which went to the capital coffers of the diocese. The building was soon torn down and it was not long before two large luxury condominiums rose from the ashes. The only memory of St. Osmund’s is in the name of the new complex, which is called “St. Osmund’s Towers.”  It was not as hard to get the placed closed as one might expect.  When the potential repairs and their attendant costs were set before the exhausted church wardens, they concurred that disestablishment seemed like the only option.  A special meeting of the vestry of the parish was called and the vote on disestablishment passed without much objection. 

As for the Rev. Canon Christa Clement, its rector, the plan had been to offer her St. Alfred’s, the other parish in town, if they could get old Canon Swiftman to retire.  It was thought that she could breath some new life into the place, and hopefully bring the remaining active members of St. Osmund’s with her.  This did not go as either the Archdeacon or Bishop had hoped.  I think it will come as no surprise that Christa was very hurt, angry in fact.  I do not blame her.  I don’t intend to go over everything that happened next, especially what happened between her and the Archdeacon; these are their private affairs.  I will only say that after the disestablishment the Bishop granted her a well-deserved sabbatical, which she took in the U.K. She never returned.  After about two months the Bishop received a letter saying she had been offered chaplaincy position at a college in a large English university and asked the Bishop’s leave to accept it.  Of course, the Bishop gave her reluctant blessing. There Christa Clement remains. I have heard very little of her since.

The hope that the remaining active members of St. Osmund’s would migrate to St. Alfred’s and fall under the care of the old Canon never materialized.  Several of the faithful decided to drive out to one of Mr. Perkins’ parishes and have much valued members in those little churches.  A couple of others who had long been pushing for modernizing the liturgy made the exodus to St. Anskar’s and were warmly welcomed by Rebecca Hope and Ernie the warden.  The rest, well, they would rather become Presbyterians that cross town and go to the other Anglican church.  Rev. Scottie Hamish at St. Andrew’s was very pleased to accept them into his fold.

Canon Swiftman remained at St. Alfred’s.  There wasn’t much to be done there that time wouldn’t sort out on its own.  So, it seems likely that the old man will be faithful to his promise that the only way he leaves the church will be in a pine box. He’s still hanging on and still purging his library. Last week I found his copy of “Essays and Reviews” in a bookshop and bought it straight away.

And what of our friend, the Archdeacon? Well, he did visit the rest of the diocese.  It took him a year-and-a-half.  When it was done, the diocese was considerably changed, and so was he. There were many closures, quite a few amalgamations, and, I am happy to say, even some new church plants. The visitation facilitated the retirement of some older clergy, the decampment of others to neighboring dioceses, and a general rearrangement of the rural deaneries.  It was a challenging and formidable time for our diocese. There was a lot of grieving, but as always, God is faithful and there were many new and wonderful beginnings. Perhaps I shall relate one or two of them sometime in the future.

Faithful reader, you may be wondering if the Archdeacon ever visited my little parish. Indeed, he did. As expected, he looked over my vestry books, read my meeting minutes, checked the figures in my financial reports; he toured the lovely little building and inquired as to what sort of ministries went on in the place.  We had the most delightful lunch together.  I am happy to report that my parish escaped the clutches of closure for various reasons which I would prefer not to relate, except to say, that the author of this little memoir knows a lot of things about a lot of people.

THE END