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No rest for the wicked
There is a common misconception that clergy, like post boxes, are always available, twenty-four/seven, as they say in common parlance. Telephone them and they will be there to answer your call, ring their doorbell at any hour of the day or night and they will appear, bright and shining, to answer your every query. No appointment is necessary; they have no need to eat so you will never be interrupting their meal.
By all means arrange your wedding in every detail before you consult the Vicar. He is sure to be willing to cancel his holiday to accommodate you. Baptism? Oh, yes, he will agree to do that on any Sunday of your choosing, at any time that is convenient for going straight to the pub afterwards, for the party. You do not actually have to turn up on time, or at all, if you have pre-arranged a wedding or a baptism. The Vicar will just sit there all afternoon waiting for you. He has nothing better to do and he only works one day a week anyway.
All this would be very droll, if only it were not true. And they wonder why I am sometimes (often?) bad tempered.
August, the month of cynicism and sarcastic remarks about holidays, or the complete lack of them. George Bernard Shaw held the view that a perpetual holiday is a good working definition of hell but I never did have the opportunity to find out if he was correct. Despite the maniple, the mark of a servant, being consigned to the bottom of the vestry cupboard in most parishes, I still wear mine. I might as well, the general public seem to think that I am permanently at their service.
But August, besides being a month when everybody, including most of the clergy, and all of the bishops, archdeacons, and everybody in the church who has a cushy job, are holidaying, is also the month of the Feast of the Transfiguration. Jesus was visibly changed in the face of a select band of his disciples. This year it is on a Sunday so those of us who are still at home will be able to celebrate it together. We who remain here will become part of those privileged to share with the disciples in their joy. It must be better than frying on a beach in Ibiza.
May God bless you all, Fr. Allan
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