Here is the upcoming chapter of Jason Ayres’ somewhat-divine comedy of church: ‘The Misery of St. Warren’. Jason has known churches inside and out for years, which you will have no trouble spotting as you read his love-letter to Jesus’ church, warts and all.
Oh, the inner city suburb of Saint Warren.
A "renovator's paradise".
An old part of town, with old factories and warehouses, ready to be knocked down for "spacious new apartments".
There sat in the middle of the suburb, a place you might otherwise not notice on your way to somewhere else, is the old church building, "The Misery of St. Warren", which the suburb was named after, nearly one hundred and fifty years ago.
To "commemorate" the 150th anniversary, the Anglo-New Greenland Ecumenical Reformist's board of directors agreed to sell the old chapel and adjoining hall (once a community centre) as inner city property values were soaring.
Besides, the congregation had whittled down to seven old people and one "young woman they'd never spoken to".
The Board had a problem on its collective mind as Reverend Harold Labour, known to his neighbours, and some of his family members, as "Hard Labour", was retiring.
Rev. Labour had heard that the Board intended to sell the property, and therefore give notice to the congregation to disperse and go elsewhere, so he tendered his resignation, as he said, so that he would not have to watch the doors close on the back of the last elderly parishioner.
Thus, the board of the A.N.G.E.R. Church had to find someone to fill the position, until the Misery of St. Warren was sold.
Enter into this troubled situation, straight off the bus with his suitcase, the Reverend Samuel Kaplan.
Fresh from Holy Bible College, his first role as "Senior Minister".
A stout young man, heavily bearded, small in stature, but with a kind manner and good reputation which preceded him.
Loyal, trustworthy- the Board assumed he would at least stick around until the property was sold.
Not that Samuel knew of their intentions.
There to greet the new minister was Reverend Lothsumn, from the nearby Sadness of Saint Steven Church, representing the Board.
"Samuel Kaplan," the young Reverend offered his hand to shake,"-Ah, please, call me Samuel."
Evidently a little anxious, Rev. Loathsumn made Samuel's day a little more stressful with a stern look down his thin, sharp nose, though still offering his hand to shake.
"I'm Reverend Lothsumn."
"Are you from the Loathsumn family, that founded Loathsumn College?" Samuel asked politely.
"Yes." Reverend Loathsumn, who never offered a first name, replied bluntly.
An awkward silence.
Samuel would later learn that Rev. Loathsumn had a quiet resentment towards him, as ministers of the A.N.G.E.R. Church had always studied at Loathsumn College, which, yes, had been founded by Rev. Loathsumn's grandfather.
That "Holy Bible College" had never taught the culture and traditions of the A.N.G.E.R. Church, but they needed a minister in a hurry, and from anywhere, and Samuel agreed to take the position - although the Board had not explained to him the entire, discomforting story.
"So,what did they teach you at this Holy Bible College?" the tall,lanky Rev. Loathsumn asked,inquisitively.
Naively, poor Samuel replied, "Ah,the Holy Bible."
Samuel's first experience of a church service was to be Rev. Labour's last church service he'd preside over, at the Misery of St.Warren.
Rev. Labour nodded at Samuel at the front door of the chapel,with a tepid smile-the only acknowledgement he would give to the new minister.
It was old Hard Labour who insisted that the Board communicate with Samuel, as he didn't want to pretend to be happy with the situation at hand.
Samuel, now a man of nearly thirty years of age,assumed that Bible college had prepared him for this new season in life as the Reverend Samuel,but what could prepare him for the dislike these people had towards him-people he had never met?
And with no valid reason, other than their own, internal office disputes.
So, Samuel sat in the back pew of the old, beautiful sandstone and brick chapel, looking around at the stained glass windows and hand carved woodwork.
Listening to the sombre hymns being sung.
One colourful, though frankly saddening window, bore the image of Saint Warren of Pistyll.
Pistyll, a village in Wales that Samuel thought might make a nice place to visit, if ever he was visiting the UK for a holiday.
But, true to form, the image of St.Warren of Pistyll in the window of this particular chapel, was of a thin man in a monk's habit, with a perplexed look on his hungry, tired face, looking toward a grey sky.
He looked uncomfortable, with his pale, yet dirty feet.
His hands clasping bread,or what appeared to be bread,and reaching toward the sky.
What an unhappy looking character-but why?
Samuel considered that he knew nothing of the supposedly "Miserable" Saint Warren, and would have to read up on him.
Although he had not been shown much courtesy since his arrival, he thought that at least he should show courtesy to Rev. Labour, by listening to his final sermon.
It began solemnly, and slowly became..depressing.
Samuel felt a bizarre sense of guilt,and did not want to focus on criticism himself, but Rev. Labour's sermon was just difficult listening, and Samuel found an opportune moment to remove himself, before the heavy atmosphere became too much.
In a week of strange surprises, Samuel was given another as he left the chapel, and made his way towards the street.
On leaving,Samuel looked to his left, to see a well built middle aged man, his hair slicked back, walking around on the church front lawn. In fact, pacing the front lawn with a "roll-your-own" cigarette.
Samuel smiled and nodded.
"Good morning."
Samuel recognised him from somewhere.
"Good morning", the man replied, with a slightly hoarse voice.
They both simultaneously looked at that cigarette.
"Nasty habit, I know," the man offered up first, "I have to give them away."
"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Samuel, once again, naively said, with a thoughtful glance.
"I don't know," the man replied, putting the cigarette to his lips and smiling,
"Don't you?"
Smiling and shaking his head, Samuel threw his hands up.
"Let's try that again." he said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
The gentleman obviously noticed this, put out his cigarette in his empty paper cup, and motioned forward.
"Warren Aspen."
The pair shook hands.
"Pa-stor Warren Aspen." Samuel said with a slight hint of shock.
"Yes," Pastor Warren replied humbly, "from the Q.C.C."
Why would Pastor Warren Aspen, from the Quietly Charismatic Church, being a church of several thousand people and having ample lawn space, be having a cigarette on the lawn of St.Warren's?
The young Rev. Samuel had arrived at the Misery of St.Warren with his suitcase, and the anticipation of his first role as "Senior Minister".
The congregation of the Misery of St.Warren thought that they were to be evicted from the premises by the board of the A.N.G.E.R. Church.
The board of the A.N.G.E.R. Church thought that they'd give Rev.Samuel a job, until they had sold the property.
Pastor Warren was standing around, having a cigarette, as he did each Sunday on the lawn of The Misery of St.Warren.
Nobody could have foreseen what the coming weeks would unravel into, where everyone's story would meld with each other.