I have never felt completely comfortable with the honorific “Venerable.” I am simply not holy enough to be venerated. And, besides, I am much too young to be an object of veneration.
Mercifully, Bishop John Vaughan has taken this weight off my shoulders. From henceforth, it is Father Mike Kerouac who is to be venerated as the Diocese’s new Archdeacon.
This is not to say that I have entirely escaped the wonderland of odd ecclesiastical titles.
The bishop has appointed me Vicar General of the Diocese, which carries with it the moniker “The Very Reverend Canon”—a bit of a mouthful, but still streets ahead of “Venerable.”
(Some folks claim the honorific should be “The Venerable Canon” on the grounds that once an archdeacon always an archdeacon. But enough of that already!)
The reshuffle puts Archdeacon Kerouac in charge of the clergy in terms of their pastoral care, discipline, and deployment. In addition to this, he is one of the bishop’s principal advisors.
An appointment as Vicar General is a very high honor, indeed. A Vicar General is his bishop’s principal advisor; but, more than that, he is the ecclesiastical authority of the diocese in the bishop’s absence, or in the case of his incapacity.
Bishop Vaughan has added the responsibility for overseeing the clergy’s education. It is a big job and I can only pray I am up to it.
We hope that you will be glad to hear that all these responsibilities come in addition to our parochial duties, not in place of them.
Actually, it is quite a tribute to St. Stephen’s parish that not just two, but three of its clergymen occupy important positions in the diocese. Fr Rhae Kelley, of course, is Dean of the Carolinas.
It is, after all, the parish that makes its clergy look good, not the other way around.
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Subdeacon Wiley Hawks has been given a first hand lesson in the bizarre lengths to which the federal civil service will go to keep Christianity out of the public square.
Wiley underwent the laborious process of qualifying to serve as a volunteer at the Veterans Administration at Perry Point, only to be told that union rules forbade him to do anything he was qualified to do.
The qualification process was a lengthy one—far longer than the training programs at private sector institutions such as Union Memorial Hospital and Joseph Richey Hospice.
For four months Wiley travelled 45 minutes each way, laying out $8 in tolls, to Perry Point to attend classes and watch movies. He gave no less than five vials of blood and was twice photographed and fingerprinted.
At the end of this trail by ordeal he was handed his brand spanking new volunteer tag. Having proudly clipped it to his lapel he crossed the lawn to the pastoral care office where the “Volunteer Service Specialist” promptly took it away.
Union rules, the Volunteer Service Specialist explained, forbade Wiley to wear a uniform—his subdeacon’s collar—or to offer the vets at the facility any form of pastoral care.
This shameful state of affairs does nothing for the unfortunate veterans receiving treatment at the facility. All it does is feather bed idle, inefficient, and abusive union members and protect them from the discipline they so richly deserve.
GPH✠
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