My first churchwarden was a bald‑headed,
fun‑filled rascal of a man with a great capacity for enjoying life and a
deep respect for God and goodness. He
had a fine sense of humour. When
visiting
He lived some miles out of the
Zimbabwean country town of which I was Rector, in a tumble‑down thatch‑roofed
house through which, when dining well at his generous table, if positioned
rightly, you could see the moon. He was
a teacher of English in the local High School, but he also baby‑sat farms
when their owners were away and he was very much an out‑doors man and
loved shooting.
He once brought us a knob‑billed
duck he had shot, telling me that he had hung it for the necessary number of
days to make it melt in the mouth. I asked him to come in and share it with us
the next evening. First it had to be
plucked and it was while this was being done that I realised what a mistake I
had made in asking him to share it. As
it was plucked the bird filled the house with the smell of putrefaction, and
when naked it was mottled with evil Episcopal purple patches of the sort that
augur badly for a parson's future. Had
he not been coming to share it with us I would have buried it. Necessity, indeed a true mother of invention,
encouraged Margaret, my wife, to marinade it's rottenness into a mysterious and
triumphant richness of flavour that made for the most delicious casserole “Canard
Sauvage et Pourri”!
He was a high church man of a very
pleasing Anglican sort, with a healthy suspicion of all things papal. Perhaps
this was because his wife was a Roman Catholic and to acquiesce to any sort of
infallible backing in the one who had promised to obey him, no matter how far
removed, seemed folly indeed! He
listened appreciatively and carefully to my sermons and analysed my style and
technique for me. In those days my
favoured ploy was to spend the first half of a sermon setting up an elaborate
and well constructed aunt sally, and the second half demolishing it with
eloquent and triumphant thoroughness. It
was he who first pointed this out to me, causing me occasionally to turn to
other approaches and techniques.
His wife, like him, was a
teacher. She taught a few thousand miles
away in a neighbouring country. They got
together for the school holidays! This
is an arrangement that might well improve not a few difficult marriage
relationships. He once went to pick her
up at the airport and sat waiting for her with a newly purchased wig on his
extremely bald pate. She came out, looked
about for him and of course didn't recognise him. She then noticed this strange man who kept
winking at her and gave him a disapproving look for doing so. Only then did the penny drop and she
recognised him. The wig he called his
"wee beastie", and it was only worn for comic effect, never in
vanity.
I don't think I have ever had a
churchwarden who I have disliked or didn't get on with, but this one, Roy Eakins, was my favourite.
It was my first parish, our first two children were born while we were
there, and the clergy, by Australian standards, were very poorly paid. He was a man who took us under his wing
personally, and my two little boys got to know him and love him, as did
Margaret my wife. After Church on
Sundays he would plonk himself down on our settee and read the paper, the boys
causing him mock annoyance by lifting the paper up to peek at him
("peeking at Eakin") and present him with a book of their choice and
a request to read. In a solemn and
quiet moment at one service the younger boy suddenly shouted out for all to
hear and in consternation: "Where Eakin?" He was not there for some reason, perhaps
because he was harassing some poor duck with a shot gun, though he was not
sports mad enough ever to put sport before his Sunday duties, and so would have
been to the early service if indeed out hunting.
Someone of influence and weight in
every parish needs to keep a benign eye on the parson's family's welfare. Too often the so called "Rector's
Warden" is chosen merely for political reasons, for his ability or
propensity to take up the Rector's favourite causes, to offer support in Parish
Council conflicts. It is far better and
more valuable if he is elected to become, in so far as is possible or allowed,
a surrogate member of the rectory family, not to pry, interfere or intrude, but
simply to befriend and love and see to the welfare of the whole family unit,
upon which the effectiveness of a rector so vitally depends. To be able to do this a Rector's Warden needs
to be wise, experienced, tolerant, discreet and thoroughly in Christ.... Eakins was all of this and more.
I don't think I have ever had a
churchwarden who I have disliked or didn't get on with, but this one, Roy Eakins, was my favourite.
It was my first parish, our first two children were born while we were
there, and the clergy, by Australian standards, were very poorly paid. He was a man who took us under his wing
personally, and my two little boys got to know him and love him, as did
Margaret my wife. After Church on Sundays
he would plonk himself down on our settee and read the paper, the boys causing
him mock annoyance by lifting the paper up to peek at him ("peeking at
Eakin") and present him with a book of their choice and a request to read. In a solemn and quiet moment at one service
the younger boy suddenly shouted out for all to hear and in consternation:
"Where Eakin?" He was not
there for some reason, perhaps because he was harassing some poor duck with a
shot gun, though he was not sports‑mad enough ever to put sport before
his Sunday duties, and so would have been to the early service if indeed out
hunting.
Someone of influence and weight in
every parish needs to keep a benign eye on the parson's family's welfare. Too often the so‑called "Rector's
Warden" is chosen merely for political reasons, for his ability or
propensity to take up the Rector's favourite causes, to offer support in Parish
Council conflicts. It is far better and
more valuable if he is elected to become, in so far as is possible or allowed,
a surrogate member of the rectory family, not to pry, interfere or intrude, but
simply to befriend and love and see to the welfare of the whole family unit,
upon which the effectiveness of a rector so vitally depends. To be able to do this a Rector's Warden needs
to be wise, experienced, tolerant, discreet and thoroughly in Christ.... Eakins was all of this and more.
What better proof of his wisdom
could there be than his appreciation of my sermons! He sent us, out of the blue some years ago, a
letter‑tape, on which he declared that he missed my sermons. That is appreciation for you! That is love for you! That is madness of the sort that makes for
the perfect churchwarden!