I got the Anglican, the diocesan newspaper, today. As always I turn to the appointments section first and see where clergy are moving. The fascinating ones are folks who are moving from city to country. There is a general expectation that one starts one career by going – in illa quae ultra sunt (“into those regions which are beyond”) and progress into the more civilized urban areas. The rusticated or in more colloquial terms, ecclesiastical road kill, go in the opposite direction. They see themselves as digressing from an association with latté sipping, urban elitist liberals to quaffing a glass of Wild Turkey with a redneck while outside packs of feral dogs run howling in the dark. Yes, we have real rednecks in Canada. After the American Civil War, Canada was packed out with hardcore confederates who refused to surrender. Take Jefferson Davis. He was jailed by the union forces in 1865 and released in 1867. One week after release he went to Quebec where his family had moved and his kids were going to school in Montreal. A week later he went to confederate reunion in Toronto. Sometimes in the country if you really know someone and after a few drinks, they’ll mutter about the War of Northern Aggression. Personally I liked the country although there have been moments. One of the duties of the clergy spouse or unpaid curate was to type the Sunday church bulletin and I was to type an entry that read “Open session on church school.” Unfortunately I typed an entry which read “Open season on church school.”
Last Sunday the sermon was on our stewardship of God’s dominion. When I went up to receive communion, I noticed that the label on the altar’s kneeler said “made in china” and “100% foam rubber”. Canonically speaking, the proper filler for a kneeler is the hair from a virgin, white mare. Now I realize that the probability of any sort of virgin mare running around China is low but couldn’t they have some labelling system like certified organic. I prefer to contemplate the eternal and reducing my carbon footprint knelling on the product of His bounty rather than chemically modified petroleum by-products.
P.S. If you’re into arcane Academic humour, the Latin quote is also the motto of a well known theological seminary
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