Follow me

Peter Ustinov, a fine chat-show guest and raconteur, used to tell a story of a porter he encountered at Dublin Airport who uttered the memorable line 'Follow me, I'm right behind you.'

I thought of this as I was categorising the verger I met recently. Was he a former airport porter? I was guesting at a new church. New to me, that is. It's been around for centuries.

In a cathedral there are fine vergers. Trained, professional and competent. OK I can immediately think of two exceptions, one who probably moonlit for Hezbollah and the other with a bottle of vodka, but you know what they say about exceptions and rules.

If you are involved in a cathedral service and the choreography involves you moving across the floor, a verger will verge you there. They will be at your shoulder before you knew you needed to think about moving and they will need following until they get you to where you need to be and bow as they leave you. They will escort you back after you have done the thing you needed to do.

Very few parish churches have vergers like this. Most feel more like some sort of daemon-spirit-animal.

So on this occasion I had been told that my verger, who had been around in the church I was visiting for quite a long time although not centuries, would show me the ropes. My preparation had given me a few questions about how things were done round there and I was assured my verger would answer my questions.

Friends, he did not. He came from the father-knows-best school. Everything was up to me and what I wanted. He didn't understand the idea of my wanting to do what was 'normal' in that church. I obtained the services of a church member who knew the answers.

At every point in the service where it seemed to me we needed to move he was waiting for me to give some sort of signal that he should lead me. When I was unsure if it was usual practice to reverence the altar the verger was obviously standing in the reverencing position but, I now realise, waiting for me to lead. Thus we gave a somewhat mixed message by doing it on the way out having not done it on the way in.

He told me the giant concelebration wafers they used broke into 20 pieces (I had quickly counted 18). The correct answer was 24 so we had some left overs. Does anyone else think they look more suited to an ice-cream sundae than the body of Christ? Just me then.

I took my hints as to what was required of me at communion based on what my colleague was doing and where he was doing it. Seemed to work but, a bit like an IKEA book-case assembly, there were some things on the communion table at the end which had not seemed necessary. Maybe the whole  spiritual life of the church will collapse later.

I followed my verger/server from right behind him whilst leading. It was great fun although my calf muscles were a bit sore from being on my toes for so long.