Open Writing

Some time ago it was announced that the assistant verger would be leaving our parish church to live closer to his family and that a replacement would be required. As time went on and no replacement could be found it was said that the post may have to be advertised outside the congregation.

Shortly after this announcement I was leaving church after Sunday service and saying goodbye to the Minister when he asked me if I ever thought of taking the post? Well I am always up for a challenge and without thinking too much about it I said why not.

It soon became apparent that there was far more to the job than ever I expected.

Wind the church clock. Set up the church for funerals. Set it up for weddings. Prepare the church for services. Is it a Communion service? If so have we supplied enough bread. Has the p.a. system been switched on? Is there a battery in the mike? Are the toilets clean? Have all doors, including fire doors, been opened? Is there water in the pulpit for the clergy , etc, etc.

As can be imagined there are hidden traps and snares designed to make the unwary look anything but competent.

Take winding up the clock in the church tower. For a start access to the clock is gained by climbing a plank up the wall. After which you have to stand on a chair in a very cramped area brandishing one of the biggest winding handles you’ve ever seen.

The first time I was shown how to do this I was invited to have a go myself. The time was 9.50am and everything was fine until I finished winding up the hour striking mechanism. The clock then took on a life of its own and struck thirteen.

It was decided to leave it to see what would happen at 10 am. At the appropriate time the clock struck five, We again thought to wait until 11.00 at which time the clock decided it was 6.o'clock. The hour striking mechanism was switched off until 7 o’clock at night when we thought this would make it right again but when, at the appointed hour, the clock decided it was 2 o’clock I gave it up as a bad job switched everything off and went home.

The day after the outgoing assistant verger handed me his keys and said goodbye to the job. I received a telephone call from the verger to say that unfortunately he had to take sick leave and apologised for “throwing me in the deep end “. However everything went fine until the following Thursday when one of the ‘men in black’ informed me that a funeral service, due the following day, would be accompanied by two tracks from different CDs. Now I am of the generation who has difficulty trying to set my own video at home. How I would cope with the public address system in the church was anybody's guess. Nevertheless I would have to use it to play the discs at the funeral service.

On the morning of the funeral I explained my dilemma to one of the ministers, who gave me a crash course on the operating the system by using a meditation disc as a practice piece. People familiar with this type of music will know that it is very quiet, melodic and and soothing. After a few practice goes with this disc I felt competent to use the system for the service.

Oh silly me!

An average funeral party consists of family and a few close friends. About 20 or 30 people in all. As the time for this funeral service drew closer more and more people were arriving in church. Approximately 200 people attended. I was getting more and more nervous.

The arrangement was that I would play the first track as the coffin was brought into church. Now remember that I had been practicing with a disc of very soothing music. When the Unchained Melody suddenly crashed forth from the system I thought I had put the wrong track on and stopped it.

After a couple of seconds, which felt like hours, and with every eye on me, I realised my mistake and started it again. By this time I was looking for the proverbial hole in the ground to jump into. At the end of the first tune I removed the disc and inserted the next. This was to be played later in the service and was track number four. As the track counter showed four I left it and at a nod from the minister I pressed play, at which time the track counter changed to number one.

Now remember I had only had a crash course in working this system and here it was developing a mind of its own. However the good Lord was watching over me as the first track was a very quite piece and I managed to change to the right one without too many people noticing. I have since ensured that I know exactly how to play discs on this system

It’s very easy to assume that when you are explaining to somebody the sequence of events that go into organising a service the person you are talking to fully understands what you mean. Take a wedding for example. When the bride arrives at church you have press a button to alert the bell ringers, followed shortly by another for the organist to start the music which the bride has chosen to be played as she enters the church.

At my first wedding I asked for clarification as to the point at which I press for the bells. It was explained that I would do this at a nod from the minister as the bride enters the narthex. The bride arrived, flash bulbs were popping, everybody was milling around and eventually the bride made her way into the building.

Now, as the bells were already ringing, I made my way to the signal bell for the organist and waited for the minister to indicate that the bridal party was ready to enter the church proper and that I should go ahead with the signal. The Minister was standing in the narthex looking at me; I was in the church looking at him. I got no sign at all as to what I should do so I took the initiative and pressed the button alerting the organist, at which point the Minister came to me and said that I hadn’t pressed for the bells. I thought the bells were already ringing but hey ho, I’ll press it if that’s what he wants.

After the service was over I asked the Minister why I should press the button for the bells when they are already ringing. Adopting a look of “give me strength” he told me that the button should be pressed to stop them ringing,

The church received a message recently to the effect that a party would be travelling quite a long way one Sunday to lay a wreath on the grave of an old comrade of theirs who had served with them in the R.E.M.E. I was asked if, on their arrival, I would look after them to which I agreed. What could possibly go wrong?

I thought that the best thing for me to do would be to identify where the grave was and plan a route for getting the party to it. The grave number had been supplied so I set off to find it. The Church has plans of the churchyard showing where graves are located. Try as I might I couldn’t find this particular grave. The gravediggers were in the churchyard at the time and I asked them to locate the grave for me. They had no luck either.

Fred, the man who keeps the graveyard tidy arrived and I thought if anybody knew where the grave was he would. “I’ll find it for you,” he said, and off he went. After about fifteen minutes he returned with a plant pot in his hand.

“I’ve found that grave, and you see this plant pot, I’ll put it on it as a marker,” he said. "You can’t miss it, “ he said. "It’s got a cross on it.”.

A little later he returned with a garden cane that had a flag attached, telling me he would stick this in the plant pot so there wouldn't be any mistake. I checked the grave for the name and the route to it.

Shortly before the main party was to arrive a lady introduced herself to me as a lay reader from the church where the party were from. We had a pleasant conversation during which she told me something of her church and about the person they had come to honour, and I asked her if she would like to see the grave before the others arrived saying that there was a rather nice cross as a headstone on it.

"Oh,” she said “I was given to understand that the grave was unmarked.''

It was at this point that I felt the first stirrings of trouble.

We walked down the graveyard and I stood there in all my glory, proudly showing this grave with a cross marker on it.

“This isn’t the right grave, “ she said.

My first stirrings of trouble very quickly turned to blind panic; I was thinking that if it had taken three men nearly two hours to find the wrong grave, how on earth was I going to find the right one, when half the party had already arrived and were waiting in the car park in full uniform, with flags flying.
I asked the lady to excuse me, raced back to the church, grabbed the ground plan of the churchyard from the office and raced back again. After I had offered my apologies we both studied the plans whilst I sent up a few silent prayers.

The good Lord was looking after us that day as we walked straight to the proper grave.

I have often wondered what would have happened had we not been able to find the grave. I had visions of all these chaps in British Legion uniforms searching the length of the graveyard looking for their comrade.

There have been numerous other occasions where little things have gone wrong like forgetting to put out purification cloths on the communion table. These are used to clean the challis and servers after communion; also forgetting to put serving salvers out for communion.

Despite all the problems that I have encountered, I am very glad that I agreed to take the post. I have found it to be extremely enjoyable and rewarding. I have made so made new friends and feel more a part of the church family. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.