The Vicar’s Unusual Journey


Long ago when a powerful church held sway, lived a lone old man named Ebenezer.  He didn’t go to church unless he could help it.  It made him angry.

But Ebenezer was a man of God.  God spoke to him, and he was sure that this god was not the vengeful being thrown at him from the pulpit.  His god nurtured and empowered him.

Ebenezer was treading on thin ice.  He was widely known as a Cunning Man, and helped many of his neighbours far and near, with his herbs and his insights.  He was sometimes loved, sometimes feared.  The local vicar on the other hand, was considered something of a fool.

It was common practice at that time, to beat the bounds of the village.  It was a fun day out, and no one really knew why they still did it, except Ebenezer.  To him it was what maintained their community, in time and space.  His mind roamed some nights, freed from his body, and he saw his beloved village as a pulsating glow, within a far greater mind.

  The day of this meeting was approaching, and he as the accepted authority on such matters, was to lead the ritual around the fields.  But the vicar was not happy.  As the official spiritual authority of the village, he had taken it upon himself to denounce the practice from the pulpit, as being heathen. God would punish such sins.  The threat of damnation would surely keep people away.

Ebenezer went out that night to his small plot behind the cottage.  He walked sunwise around it, then into the middle and knelt facing north.  He usually did this when in need of guidance.  Soon he felt a warm glow in his belly, and willed it to spread to the bounds of the village itself.  His heart felt strong.

Next day, he marched up to the vicar’s door, and rapped rudely with his stick.  The startled occupant cagily opened the door, raising his eyebrows questioningly.  He met the other’s eyes with a hint of a sneer.  How tiresome.
‘I hear you have a problem with us beating the bounds’ said Ebenezer.
‘Such heathen nonsense has to stop’ snapped the vicar.
‘Then Jesus preached against it did he?’  The vicar was silent.  He was used to a docile audience.
‘Come on man’ goaded Ebenezer, ‘Did he?’
The vicar slammed the door.  He simply didn’t know what to think.  It was very unlikely Jesus had done so, but he was sure that He would have done, if He were around now.  So that was an end to it.
 
But it wasn’t.  The question kept rambling round his mind.  How dare this peasant challenge him?  The morrow was no better, he became more and agitated.  He was no scholar, and his knowledge of the bible was patchy.  Uncertainty set in.  What was happening to him?
 
Ebenezer knew.  He had shot that verbal arrow right into the man’s guts.  It should be rampaging nicely by now.  He would bide his time.  The vicar was on a string.
 
The following day, the vicar arrived at the cottage, looking like a man who hadn’t slept.  He didn’t even know why he was there, he was confused.  Ebenezer eased his difficulty.
 
‘Its very easy’ he said, ‘when we gather for the fun, you must bless the gathering, and ask God to keep and protect us’
The vicar nodded dumbly, half realising the advantage of the plan, half as if his will had deserted him.
 
Arriving home, he sat shaking, head in hands.  The old man’s reputation was not for nothing.  As a man of the church, he ought to hold sway in such matters, but he did not.  If only he had faith, he was sure that Jesus would crush this little man, but it seemed to be the other way round.
 
The big day came and went without a hitch, but the vicar was still confused.  He had participated in a heathen ritual.  On the other hand, he had sanctified it and saved simple folk from sin.  Oddly, he felt a little humble.
 
Ebenezer didn’t show up at church for some time.  It was for Christmas.  The vicar immediately felt wobbly inside, especially when Ebenezer stepped up for communion.  After all, the man was a heathen of sorts.  Ebenezer smiled into his eyes, and the other felt his quiet authority.  And even as he went on with the ritual, he was realising that he wasn’t really a man of God, it was just a job, but this man in front of him was.
 
Time slipped by. Ebenezer grew old and eventually died in his sleep.  Many mourned him as the funeral was arranged.  The bier was brought into church and set on a table in the aisle.  The vicar cleared his throat.  But no voice would come.  He stood pretending to pray, quietly panicking.  At length he stumbled through a few words and platitudes, when suddenly his voice started speaking eloquently of its own accord.  It was as if he were standing behind himself, as a silent observer.
 
The mourners stood open mouthed.  Ebenezer was laid to rest.  And thenceforth the vicar was known for his stirring sermons and lively advice. Some even remarked that it was as if old Ebenezer himself spoke through him.
 
And as he grew old and content, he too began to glimpse the god he was part of, and led the beating of the bounds with a big smile.

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