The church
Getting a living
Bernard Croft
Great is the mystery of how men are raised to the purple; and almost as great, for many people, that of selecting tile new rector or vicar of a parish. The former represents unto us the mystical union that is between church and state; the latter the often tenuous connection between the patron of the living and the parish needing a new pastor. Both mysteries are about to be dissolved. The former will take time. The end of the latter is drawing near, though the vote to end private patronage, taken by the General Synod of the Church of England fast month must await legislation and the consent of Parliament.
Your present incumbent may have come to you by courtesy (presentation) of the Queen, an Oxford or Cambridge college, the dean and chapter of a cathedral (not necessarily your own), the local lord of the manor, a Party Trust (High or Low), the Lord Chancellor, the Admiralty, some other incumbent, a religious community, or a business firm (as it might be, Smith's Potato Crisps). But most livings are in the gift of the diocesan bishops, and an ever increasing bumber in that of diocesan boards of patronage.
There is something to be said for private patronage, when it is properly exercised. The system is bound, up in the history of English villages. These sprang up around the manor of a great landowner, and in most English villages today there is still a -Manor—Farm, a Church Farm, and a church — usually with parsonage-house nearby. A school, of course, which would be a church school at one time if not now; a pub perhaps, and cottages originally provided for farm workers. The land for the church was probably given by the lord of the manor, if not the building itself; as also the parsonage. In return he was given the privilege of choosing the parson; and this could be handed down to his heirs and successors, provided they were not Roman Catholics, aliens or lunatics. This right of advowson is treated in law as a right of property and can be transferred by gift or even sale. A great many of recent years have been transferred from private hands to the bishop of the diocese, or to a diocesan board of patronage.
Where the private patron is still living at the big house, he can still be the best man to know what kind of man will be best for the parish, as rector or vicar. The church councils are now enabled to tell the patron what kind of man they want; but this is not always the kind of man they need. In any case, the bishop of the diocese has to approve the name put forward. Naturally enough, church Councils set down a list of qualities they expect to find in their new parish priest, such as could only be supplied by a Reverend Admirable Crichton who does not exist. The parish priest is still expected to be a GP; fairly good at everything. I heard a farmer remark the other day in a Yorkshire pub, over market-day lunch, "If you get one who can preach, he's usually no good at anything else." And there is that story of the recommendation which read, "What this village really needs is a slow left-hand bowler."
Certainly some link should be kept with the private patron in any new system devised — where, that is, the patron has proved he has a real personal interest. Not, of course, in such cases as that I came across not long ago, where, at the service of institution and induction, the prviate patron went up to the archdeacon before the service began, and asked him whether he was the vicar-elect. And I for one would not want all patronage to be in the hands of the bishop alone. Some have proved not to be strong enough to withstand the unreasonable demands of church councils.
Church Party Trusts — High or Low — should certainly go. Neither represent the norm of the Church of England today. Few men becoming country incumbents today will have only one village and church. The days are coming when one priest will have within his cure-of-souls four or five small villages rather than two or three, as at present. This calls for a new pattern of Sunday services and an increased appreciation of weekday services. (How long can we go on maintaining buildings which are only used for one hour a week is another problem which has to be faced.) It is important to get the right man in, because — whatever the patronage system — once he is in, there he can stay for the rest of his life. Some men move around too frequently. (The service of institution and induction has become one of the more familiar services these days.) Normally a man put into a parish should stay there for at least seven years; though there will always be exceptional circumstances to justify an earlier move. (I only ceased to be "the new vicar" when I had been in my present parish for five years.) And some, alas, stay too long in one place. Not many, happily, as long as
the one who observed, "When I was put into this parish forty years ago I recall no mention being made of it being a temporary arrangement."
While the Anglican ministry is not first and foremost a preaching ministry, preaching looms large, and is important. And many men are preached out after seven years or so, for the same congregation. But most of us do not want a new system along the lines of the Methodist ministry; of a man being put into a place for a fixed number of years. Nor the Roman Catholic one of men moving around within the diocese only. Some men give of their best in reasonably short incumbencies. And dioceses are often enriched by new blood from outside. It is no easy task to fit the right man into the right place. But that is what we must go on trying to do. We can only do it of course if there is a supply of fit persons to be drawn upon for the work of a parish priest. Specialists are needed, in comparatively small numbers; but the ordinary parish priest remains the back" bone of the Church of England. It is vital that we find the best possible way of appointing them. ,
The Revd Bernard Croft has been a sch. chaplain, RAF padre and a parson in town art"
country
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