I went to church today for St David's Day. I will go again. At Holy Trinity, Bungay, I was welcomed by a verger, known around town as being very caring and community minded. I didn't catch her name, but will be going to a Thursday meeting she holds at my friend Clare's Old Bank Cafe. She mispronounced my name as Justin, and when I told her Iestyn was the Welsh version, she went and fetched the daffodil that had fallen over in the churchyard. 'For a Welsh man on his patron saint's day.' I was also intrigued by the excellent sermon on the Nicodemus story.
The kind verger approached me a second time to shake my hand during the giving and receiving of the Peace. This thoughtfulness reminded me of something that happened some years ago now in Deaven, Suffolk.
A posse led by Lady Dawn and Annabel Williams-Smyth approached the Reverend Peter Cooper, the new incumbent of St Mary's, to ask if he would please jettison the handshake accompanying the passing of the Peace.
Reverend Cooper agreed, believing the ladies to share his own concern that high(ish) church St Mary's was becoming happy-clappy.
Whereas actually, Lady Dawn and co had always been anxious they might have to shake hands with a fisherman, shop keeper or their own daily woman.
True story.
And it has a coda.
When these, and other, kapok-stuffed Ladies of Deaven were rummaging through the boxes of Christmas cards in the library, I believe it was Annette Frint who commented how pleased she was that each box of cards was clearly labelled. 'Then one knows which specific charity one might be supporting, and can avoid those which are just that bit too overseas oriented. Well, it was their own lookout - certain undeveloped nations choosing to throw all our good help back in our faces by leaving the Empire.'
#church#religion#passingofthepeace#eucharist#churchofengland#religion#humour#snob#snobbery#class#classwar#workingclass#humor#humour#comedy#publicspeaker#talks

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