The churches around Hornington take it in turns annually to
host the Town Rogation Service during which the town councillors parade around
an area in full regalia praying for God’s blessing on the community and its
common life. This year it was our turn, for the first time since our former
curate had planned the service and it poured with so much rain that she had to
lead it entirely inside the church, leading everyone around indoors and
inviting them to pretend they were at
the allotments or the infant school. This year, we were able to go outside and
even to walk through the allotments, following pretty much the same route as
our ex-curate had planned, with an additional stop at the railway station; I
decided that the station forms such an important part in the life of so many
local residents that it needed to be recognised – and not just because people
commute but because the two level crossings dictate so much of the pace of life
in the village. Coincidentally, I’d just taken the funeral of the man who was
Swanvale Halt’s signalman for over thirty years.
I am of course used to wandering around in a biretta and
vestments, and the councillors are no strangers to dressing up, but I was full
of admiration for Rona our crucifer who had to go up front and lead us. It’s a
very un-English business because it involves taking religion out of the cozy
(and invisible) confines of the church building, so you just have to set your
jaw and get on with it.
The highlight was when a car drew past us, and a chap wound
down his window and shouted ‘Heil Hitler!’ at the assembled procession. ‘There
is insight in Swanvale Halt’, a friend of mine commented.
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